


A Secret Gate

by treefrogie84



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester Fight, F/F, F/M, Lonely Castiel, Lonely Dean, M/M, Witch Castiel, loss of agency due to outside forces
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-02-08 11:16:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 36,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12863346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treefrogie84/pseuds/treefrogie84
Summary: Dean has already had a long day and just wants a cup of coffee. Getting pulled across universes was not in his plans for the evening, neither was bringing someone home from that universe. And then his new companion sends everything thing spinning out of control.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All the usual thanks to [Dorkily ](https://dorkilysoulless.tumblr.com/) for beta'ing this monster and listening to me whine about it for 6 months. You're the best dude.   
> [Foop](http://formidablepassion.tumblr.com/) stepped in pretty regularly too, acting as a sounding board as necessary and making sure that Dorkily and I didn't live too much in each other's heads. You are also the best.  
> Thank you to Weekend Writing Marathon, the Mediocre Meta regulars, and the helpful folks at AllSpnShips for letting me blabble, helping me come up with terminology, and talk through plot problems. I'm sure y'all are as sick of listening to me talk about this thing as I am.

Dean’s only excuse is that it’s been a really long day. He’s exhausted and needs a caffeine boost on his way home.

He doesn’t make a habit of walking into new cafes late at night and he certainly doesn’t walk blindly over chalk scribbles on the sidewalk. His life sucks enough without getting caught up in some fight between covens.

He doesn’t even notice the scribbles on the sidewalk. One minute he’s reaching forward to open the door, and the next the world dissolves into smoke and disappears.

It takes a second for his brain to catch up with what’s happening. “Shit! Fuck. Godsdammit.”

When the smoke clears, Dean’s staring at a man about his own age with a huge book staring back. 

“Shit, that worked?” Astonishment gives way to giddiness and a grin breaks across the man’s face.

“Yeah. That’s what summoning spells _do_.” Dean glances down at the circle surrounding him. He doesn’t recognize all of the symbols, but there’s enough. “Look, man. Just send me back. I’ve had a long day and I just want some fucking coffee, not to get caught up in some territory war or whatever.”

The witch across from him looks puzzled. “Send you back? What?”

“Yeah, ya know, to my _life_? I’ve got work tomorrow, dude.”

“I was summoning my familiar. _You’re_ my familiar. You have to be.” He steps forward, scuffs out a couple of the chalk marks on the edge of the circle. “You’re not exactly what I was expecting, but I’m not going to turn down what the universe offers me.”

Dean sputters as the tension in the circle fades. “What the universe offers you? What the hell, dude? You planted your fucking targeting circle in front of a godsdamned doorway! What were you expecting?”

“What targeting circle? Hell, what doorway? I didn’t plant anything. I’ve been in my apartment all evening.” The man shakes his head, gesturing to the broken down couch against the wall. “There’s… been some sort of misunderstanding here. I can’t send you back right now, but I _can_ get you a cup of coffee at least.” Turning around, he pulls a french press from the dish drainer and a bag of coffee off the counter. 

Cautiously, Dean crosses the room to collapse on the couch. “What should I call you anyway? If I’m stuck here.”

There’s some muttering in the other room for a moment, the kind of pull and release Dean’s used to from growing up with Sam’s incidental magic, gentle swirls of health and healing, nothing that feels harmful, before the witch responds. “Cas. Castiel, properly, but that’s a mouthful.”

This guy is green, offering up his True Name willy-nilly. At the same time though, honesty requires honesty. “Dean.” Popping up from the couch, he looks around the tiny apartment. A half wall separates the kitchen from the living room, an open door shows the bathroom. No sign of a bed, or even a second room where one might be hiding. Stuffed bookshelves line the walls, full of titles that Dean’s never heard of. A coffee table and dresser, both littered with knick knacks, but nothing else. 

He sighs and gets closer to the bookshelves. Anything to avoid making awkward conversation. There’s a few dusty picture frames with sun-faded photos: one of a younger Cas and another kid; the other a posed family picture of two young boys and their parents posed along a staircase. There’s nothing else personal on the shelves.

The witch, Cas, coughs lightly behind him. Dean whirls around to see him setting a couple coffee mugs on the coffee table along with the pot. “I, uh, don’t have any milk right now, but there’s sugar if you want it.”

Shaking his head, Dean claims one of the mugs-- a pansexual pride flag with a pentagram and the word ‘pan-tagram’ underneath in a cheerful font -- nice -- and pours a cup. “Black is fine.” He waits as Cas puts a bunch of sugar into his cup -- heavy blue stoneware -- and pours coffee over it before saying anything else. “You said you were summoning your familiar. I’m not it. Not unless the rules are a lot different than my brother ever told me.”

Cas carefully sips his coffee before settling back onto the couch. “What rules?” Fidgeting with the spoon in his mug, he looks down. “I didn’t even expect this to work, the spells from that book _never_ work.”

It takes Dean a moment to process. “Wait… the spells never work? What the hell were you doing fucking around with it then?”

“Magic isn’t real.” He says bluntly, like it’s a truth even small children know. “I’m not even sure why I tried it.” He looks down into his cup, tapping his finger on the rim. “Well, that’s not entirely true. Half drunk and lonely is why. But most of what I do just fails anyway, or reflects my intentions to the universe or whatever. This is the first time I’ve tried something more tangible in a long time.”

Instinctually, Dean moves his fingers in the easiest cantrip he knows, expecting a flame to form around his fingers as he waggles them. Nothing. He looks at Cas, frowning. “But I can feel you. The same way I felt my brother or Char when they did spells. You did something to the coffee earlier.” More than he ever felt with Sam and Charlie actually, all the small details they keep describing but he’s never expected to feel.

Cas momentarily looks excited before his face falls, “A simple blessing. Nothing harmful, I promise.”

“I _know_ that. I _felt_ it.” Dean sighs and reaches for the spellbook where Cas had abandoned it on the coffee table. 

Most of the book is nonsense as far as he can tell. But there are traces of familiarity, spells that are close to what he remembers from helping Sam and Charlie work. The spell Cas must have used, _To Draw Your Companion To You_ , is one of the ones with familiar elements. 

“You said magic doesn’t exist here?” Cas nods, sinking further into the couch, increasingly miserable. “Well, then you pulled me across universes or something. Because magic is very real.” The next page has what Dean is looking for, _To Return What Has Been Found._ Draining his coffee, he pushes the book towards Cas. “This one. It looks real.”

All the excitement has drained from Cas's face, but he nods. “Of course. I can’t... I can’t keep you from your family.” Silently, he reads over the spell, mouthing the words. 

Dean picks up the empty mugs and coffee pot, taking them into the kitchen to wash. Repay hospitality with hospitality. There’s two plates in the dish drainer, one set of silverware, one pot. Trying to be helpful, Dean opens the cabinets to put away the dishes. Except there’s only three cabinets: one full of food, one of cleaning supplies, one of crafting supplies. The fridge isn’t much better: condiments, the bag of coffee, a couple beers. Slowly, it dawns on him what Cas means when he says he’s lonely: there’s no sign that he ever has any visitors at all.

No wonder he was so excited when the spell worked. 

Fuck.

Looking into the living room, Dean watches Cas listlessly erase the sigils from the previous circle. “Cas, are… are you okay?”

Cas runs his hand over his face, smearing chalk dust across his nose. “Yeah. Of course I am.” He looks down, returns to drawing the new circle, hiding his face. 

He’s okay the same way a car wreck is okay.

Dean makes up his mind and abandons the dishes on the counter. He crosses the room to kneel across the circle, stealing the chalk when Cas pauses to check the circle against the spellbook. He doesn’t have the power to work anything above cantrips and a few simple charms, but he’s helped Sam and Charlie enough to know the basics for simple alterations. Singular to plural is an easy change -- a different twist on the tail of two sigils -- and it’s done.

“Dean, what are you doing? That’ll change the spell, it won’t work, I can’t send you home if you do it that way.”

“Wouldn’t you rather come with me?” Dean hands the chalk back. Maybe he overstepped. Just because Cas's apartment is a monument to loneliness and misery doesn’t mean he actually…

“Yes.” Cas cuts off Dean’s thought process. “If it includes getting to know you.” 

“Me? Why? I’m nothing special.”

“Because I dragged you into a different universe and your response is to bring me home with you.” Cas pushes himself to his feet and grabs a beat-up backpack from the corner. Moving to the dresser, he tosses a few shirts, some underwear, and a pair of jeans into the bag before moving to the bookshelf next to it. “Because you’re hot. It’s not like I have a whole lot else going on. What’s the worst that can happen?” Grabbing the photo of him and the other guy -- shorter and with lighter hair, a brother maybe -- he looks at the books that surround him and only picks two, both worn and falling apart, before zipping up the bag and shouldering it.

“I’m not your familiar, Cas. Even if you come home with me.” Dean doesn’t know why he’s protesting, not really. 

“Will it get me away from here, somewhere I can get to know you better?”

“It should. I mean, yeah, you’re welcome to hang out with me. I don’t know--” Dean flexes his shoulders, trying to get the muscles from seizing up from the ambient power. He can feel Cas's magic rising, tension gathering along his shoulders and back. “Can you stop that? Gods, how the hell have you never had anything work before?”

“Stop what?” Cas's hand lands on his forearm from across the circle and the tension breaks, rebounding through Dean like a snapped rubber band. His eyes snap shut as he cries out, falling forward into the circle.

Dean lands on his hands and knees back in front of the coffee shop. Cas lands on him a breathless moment later, hammering him face first into the welcome mat.

Back where he started. Well, a lot more tired and slightly more scraped up, but basically back to where he was an hour ago.

“Dude, you okay?”

Cas groans and rolls off Dean. “What just happened?”

“Apparently, you’re powerful enough to not need to actually say the spell. Just thinking it is enough.”

“I don’t… what?” The excitement is back in Cas's voice. 

The door in front of them jangles as the barista pulls it open, frantically asking if they’re alright.

Dean waves him off after standing up. Scrapes and bruises, he’s had worse. Pulling Cas to his feet, he checks him over. “You alright, man?” 

“Confused, but yes.” 

“Confused is fine. C’mon, let’s go home.” Carefully, he sketches out a cantrip to message Char about chatting in the morning before leading the way back to his house. It’s not far, only about five minutes’ walk into the residential areas of town.

Safely behind closed doors, he leans forward and kisses Cas. He means for it to be sweet, just enough to see if Cas in interested. It doesn’t stay that way, heating up when their mouths slant across each other. Immediately, the room is heavy with magic. 

It’s never been like this, with every brush of their lips and bump of their hips ratcheting up the tension. Dean lets it go on for as long as he can before pulling back. “Cas, man, you gotta stop.”

Cas follows him forward, snatching another kiss. “Stop what?”

“You keep pulling magic. Something around here is gonna explode if you don’t stop.” Dean firmly steps back, out of immediate kissing range.

Breathlessly, Cas thumps his head against the door. “What are you talking about?”

Grabbing Cas's hand, he drags him over to the crystal garden he keeps in the front window. “You feel the magic that you’ve raised right? Tension in the air like a storm is about to hit, neon lights, however it works for you?” 

Cas nods hesitantly. 

“Release it, _slowly_ , into here.”

Cas takes a deep breath and, on the exhale, the crystals blossom, a riot of amethyst, citrine, and carnelian overgrowing their beds. _Months_ of growth put on in a few seconds. No wonder Cas was able to get a spell to work in a magicless world.

“Holy crap.” Cas whispers, looking at the new growth.

“Yeah.” Dean nods, sliding his hand down to intertwine their fingers. “That’s what I was talking about.”

Cas gently runs a finger along the spine of one of the amethysts, watching as color bleeds into it, turning from pale lilac to a deep purple. 

It’s a simple charm to trim the crystal, dropping an inch long chunk into the sand below. Picking it up, Dean hands it to Cas, “Hold on to that for a moment.” He doesn’t make jewelry often -- the market is oversaturated and he’s better at trinkets -- but he has the basic materials. Twisting the wire into a cage, he nods for Cas to drop the stone in before closing it off and stringing it onto a leather cord and handing it back. “Here.”

Cas gapes at him for a moment, loops the necklace around his neck. Watching the stone settle in the center of his chest, Dean relaxes for some reason he can’t identify. Cas looks down for a moment, gently brushes it with his thumb before meeting Dean’s eyes.

It feels like electricity is arcing through him, drawing him closer to Cas. Dean’s in control of the kiss this time, pushing Cas against the wall. He takes advantage of Cas's gasp, deepening the kiss.

Cas mirrors him, pulling Dean impossibly closer, one hand on Dean’s ass and the other cupping his shoulder. Dean loses track of time, lost in the taste of Cas's tongue, the smell of him.

The clock on the other side of the wall bongs three times, startling them apart. Dean comes back to himself, coherent thought coalescing around more mundane concerns like sleep and work in the morning. Briefly, he closes his eyes to cut off the tempting sight of a thoroughly kissed Cas. Even if they continue this, he can suddenly feel the dull ache in his knee that happens when he’s been standing still too long. “We need to stop.”

“Oh. Of course we do.” Cas chuckles quietly before there’s a dull thunk of his head hitting the wall. “Is this when Cinderella goes home from the ball?”

“Huh?” Dean frowns, opening his eyes. “I mean, I suppose we can make that happen if you want.”

“If I want? I thought…”

“It’s three in the morning, dude. I have to be up in like… two hours for work.” Dean leans back. “I was thinking more like... we take this elsewhere and get some sleep?” He kisses Cas lightly. “I meant it when I asked if you wanted to come with me. There’s something here, between us. I don’t want to let you go anytime soon.”

Cas blinks, chasing Dean’s lips. “Oh. In that case, yeah, sleep would be good.”

For the first time since he inherited it, Dean’s self-conscious about how weird his house is. Over a hundred years old, the layout is confusing at best: the bedroom turned workspace at the front of the house, a passthrough bathroom only accessible through the workspace or his bedroom, tiny kitchen tucked away at the back of the house. He has an honest to gods foyer, but has to pass through his pantry to eat at a table.

He’s partially refinished it over the years since Dad passed, tearing out the terrible mid-century renovation he’d grown up in and restoring the original Craftsman style, but the awkward layout has always been there, with no easy way to fix it. 

Cas is a good sport about it anyway, following quietly and nodding when Dean points out where the bathroom and kitchen are. 

Dean grimaces again when he sees how messy his room is. He’s been falling behind on basic shit lately, just hasn’t cared. “Are you okay with… I mean, I can sleep on the couch if you… Or there’s a spare bed upstairs, I’m not sure it has sheets at the moment, but...”

Cas drops his bag and starts stripping down. “I’m okay with sharing. We’re just sleeping, right?” He pulls his shirt off without waiting for an answer and tosses it towards the hamper. “I don’t…” He interrupts himself with a yawn. “Sorry. I don’t normally sleep with a shirt on, is that alright?”

Dean drags his gaze away from the well-defined shoulders and chest. “Uh. Yeah. Sure. That’s fine. I don’t…” He snatches his sweatpants off the dresser next to the bathroom. “I’m gonna go… yeah. Change. And… yeah.” He all but slams the door behind him as he escapes. Fuck, what in the seven hells is he _doing_? He never gets this tongue tied.

He’s known Cas for less than a day. He needs to slow down. Even if this is more intense than any bond he’s ever felt, stronger than working with Sam, definitely stronger than when he worked with Charlie. 

Splashing some water on his face, he changes pants before cautiously opening the door. Hopefully, he hasn’t offended…

Cas is completely passed out on the bed. 

Dean blows out the breath he is holding and relaxes. Flipping on the bathroom nightlight, he pulls the door mostly closed and climbs into the bed. Shifting his pillow a bit, he rolls over so his back is to the light and closes his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once more, many thanks to Dorkily and Foop for beta'ing this for me.  
> I'm in the final stages of editing the last 3 chapters now. Once that's complete, I'm going to upload whatever is left all at once.

Cas wakes up at false dawn with Dean wrapped around him like a koala. He gives himself a couple minutes to drop back off, but that fails pretty quickly. Instead, he carefully extracts himself from Dean’s arms and bed. 

He finds the walk-in pantry and kitchen easily enough, but figuring out the coffee pot takes far more thought than he can easily manage pre-coffee. The coffee and filters are on the shelf above the brewer, but the switch on the cord isn’t nearly as obvious as it should be for a device meant to be used pre-caffeine. 

Nothing is designed like he expects, actually. There’s no computer, no microwave. The kettle on the stove matches the one Cas remembers from when he was a kid. It’s weird, none of the electronic gizmos that are part of his daily life are here. Not only that, but there’s no sign that they even exist.

Fixing himself a cup of coffee, Cas stares out the back window from the dining room, watching the yard slowly brighten as dawn approaches.

The warm light dredges up the doubts and worries that he’d managed to ignore last night. He’s in some alternate dimension doing god knows what with some stranger who just showed up in his apartment.

(Because he _summoned him_ , but still.)

There’s no reason for him to trust Dean -- and a lifetime of experience telling him not to -- but not trusting him feels the same as not trusting Gabe. Even though they just met, trust is written in him to the bone. Dean can say that the spell that Cas cast last night didn’t bring him his familiar, but there’s obviously some kind of bond or connection between them. 

Even if there wasn’t, Cas can read a pantry well enough, and the story Dean’s tells is uncomfortably familiar. He might be slightly better off financially, but there’s only one coffee cup in regular use, one spoon next to the pot, a level of desperation in his kisses. Dean’s just as lonely as he is. 

The buzz of an alarm in the other room drags him back, Dean stumbling from bed to shower clearly audible. Sighing, Cas finishes his coffee and heads back to the front room of the house where he’d dropped his bag last night. Picking out a change of clothes, he looks around, trying to figure out where he can change. He doesn’t want to just stroll into Dean’s room and strip down. What is acceptable in an exhausted lust haze feels wrong in the cold light of morning.

He ends up in the closet of the front room, struggling to pull his jeans on without knocking over the precariously stacked boxes and baskets. 

He nearly loses track of what he’s doing when flashes of power start gathering. It’s something like what he felt last night, unfamiliar neon flashing towards the back of the house, but that’s the only similarity. It’s _more_ , bigger, brighter, beyond what he can understand, beyond what he and Dean created last night. The burn of a wildfire instead of the comforting hearth fire. 

Quietly, Cas picks his coffee cup back up from the desk and wanders back towards the kitchen.

Dean’s standing in the small room off the dining room, his back to the rest of the house while he does something at the cabinet in front of the windows. Every motion he makes, every word spoken draws more attention from whatever is watching until Dean brings his hands together and…

it _snaps_ , the energy releasing like a rubber band.

 _Something_ flares and recedes, the gathered power breaking up like clouds after a thunderstorm. Dean slumps down from his too erect posture, exhaustion reappearing. He’s still for a few seconds before shaking his head and starting to put things away.

Cas knocks softly on the doorway. Dean startles, dropping the box of matches and scattering them over the floor. “Crap.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

Dean shakes his head, “Cas, stop.” He brushes a finger along the top of the cabinet and smiles at nothing. “You don’t need to apologize, I drop them at least once a week.”

Carefully, Cas pushes into the room, standing to the side so he’s out of the way. Dean’s painted the room a soft green above the honey oak chair rail and panelling. There’s a distinct contrast between this and the rest of the house: this room, more than any other, feels complete, like the renovations were completed long enough ago for the room to meld. Cas can see why this is the room that Dean uses for his morning rituals.

Cas feels his own face split into a grin to answer Dean’s own when Dean bustles back in with a broom and pan, efficiently sweeping up the dropped matches and pouring them back into the box. He sets the broom outside the door before grabbing Cas's hand and leading him back closer to the altar.

Holding Dean’s hand feels different than it did last night, more relaxed with more intention. 

Standing closer, it’s obvious that Dean’s altar is far newer than the rest of the house, the wood stained a much darker color, a rich brown that highlights the bright green cloth covering it. The tools on top are similar to the ones Cas uses -- a bowl, a candle, an incense burner, the other odds and ends that accumulate on every altar -- but all show more wear than his, the painted designs chipped and worn, wood showing through in places.

Gingerly, he reaches out to run a careful finger along the edge of the altar.

A spark flies through him and Dean, connecting them, linking them together. Cas inhales sharply at the shock of it. The moment is endless, whispers from unseen entities following him while he burns and flies and grows roots and flows. He’s turned, inspected, weighed. He’s not found wanting, he doesn’t think, but he has no idea who’s doing the approving. 

He slams back into his body, Dean squeezing his hand tightly, enveloping him in affection and wit and…

Whatever that was ends abruptly and, suddenly, he’s alone in his head again. “What the… What was that?”

Next to him, Dean loosens his hold on Cas's hand. “Not what I was expecting.” He takes a step back and pulls Cas away from the altar and out of the room. “We need to head out. We’ll meet up with Char after work. She should be able to to tell us something.”

 

Dean’s a flustered mess in the aftermath, fumbling everything. He spills half a cup of coffee on the shelf in the pantry trying to fill his travel mug, nearly forgets to lock the door behind them when they leave, and then, when he does remember to lock the door, he fumbles the keys _twice_ , spilling the rest of his coffee when he reaches down to pick them up.

Part of it, sure, is how little sleep he got last night. He’s got his routine down to a science, but it doesn’t matter how ingrained it is after less than two hours of sleep. Mostly though, he was not expecting that level of metaphysical response to Cas this morning. 

Everyone else, when introducing a new partner to their altar, magic, and/or gods, gets a feeling of approval and welcome. Some sparks of approval maybe, or the lights flashing, a candle flare. Not him and Cas though. 

No, they got out of body experiences and murmuring voices and gods know what else.

It’s not a long walk to the shop, especially during early summer before the heat hits its peak. Most of the time, Dean enjoys the thirty minutes to finish waking up or to wind down from his shift. Today, it’s awkward, despite the gorgeous weather. He and Cas are both silent, too shy in the morning light to say much. That doesn’t stop Dean from reaching over and snagging Cas's hand though, intertwining their fingers for the second half of the stroll over.

The tension in Cas's posture slowly melts away as they walk, his jaw relaxing. Dean squeezes his hand every few minutes, enough to remind Cas that he’s here, that he’s not alone. Every time he does so, he gets a momentary flash of something. He’s not sure what it is, just that it’s comforting and feels like Cas. Every so often, Cas glances over at him, smiling softly, like maybe he finds this reassuring too. 

Bobby’s already in the office when they reach the shop, his beat-up old Chevelle parked on the street where it’s out of the way of the customers. He’s early, but he does that sometimes, mostly when he knows that Dean’s had a short night. How he knew today is anyone’s guess, but he’s always right.

Dean plasters a self-assured smile on his face and squeezes Cas's hand as he heads into the office. “Bobby’s more bark than bite. Don’t let him get to you.”

Cas suddenly looks alarmed, “Wait, what? Dean--”

Bobby raises an eyebrow when Dean knocks on the door. “Who’s this? Don’t remember hiring anyone new.”

Dean winces, “Yeah, we didn’t. There was a… uh… thing.”

“Dean, you bringing trouble to my shop?”

“No, sir. Cas just needs a place to hang out for a few hours.”

Cas startles beside him, “What? No. I don’t want cause trouble. I can go back to the house or something.”

Looking him up and down, Bobby shakes his head. “I didn’t say you couldn’t stick around, kid. You stay here where we can keep an eye on you, keep you out of less friendly hands.” He pointedly looks out to the shop floor. “Get the Jeep from yesterday finished and the drop-off oil changes done, then take off for the rest of the day. Last thing we need is you falling asleep under a ton of steel.”

Dean’s face breaks out into a wide smile, “Thanks, Bobby. If Char calls, let her know?” 

Bobby rolls his eyes, but waves him out the door. Dean reaches over to kiss Cas before heading to the back to pull on a jumpsuit, ignoring Bobby’s raised eyebrow.

He’s irritable by the time he’s got his jumpsuit on and the hood popped on the Jeep and his mood just keeps getting worse. He barely pulls his head out of the engine block when Alicia and Victor show up for their shifts at nine, snarling at their greetings. He rushes the three oil changes, nearly stripping the drain plug on one of them, pissing him off even further. Stomping off the floor, Dean barely stops to pull off his jumpsuit, slapping down the completed paperwork on the customer service desk for Max and bolting for Bobby’s office. 

Bobby looks up as soon as Dean opens the door and tosses the keys to the Chevelle at him. “Char said to bring him to her place.”

“We don’t have to take your car, Bobby. We can walk back to the Impala.” He slides a hand along Cas's shoulders, feels them relax under his hold.

“Kid, take it. The sooner you get him over there, the better this is going to go.”

Cas reaches up to grab Dean’s hand, tightening his grip when Dean starts to pull away. “Don’t. It’s… easier. If you’re here.”

It’s easier on Dean too, the vague sense of unease he’s been fighting all morning dissipating now that he’s touching Cas.

Bobby leans back in his chair, looking at them both speculatively. “Best get him to Char. Don’t know where you picked him up, but kid needs something.”

Watching the stress slowly ease out of Cas's body at a simple touch, Dean agrees. He’d figured that Cas was powerful, but this is something else. Cas's magic isn’t reacting the way he expects. But then, Dean’s reacting funny too, and he grew up here.

Even if Charlie wasn’t his best friend, Dean would probably bring Cas to her and Jess anyway: with Sam and Eileen off at school, they’re the only witches he trusts. They’re also the only ones he thinks _might_ understand what’s happening here, what with how their magics synced up immediately upon meeting.

Jess meets them at the door, on her way out. Jerking a thumb towards the back of the house, she says, “Hey, Dee. Char’s out back redoing the herb garden again. I’ve got a few errands to run, but try to keep her from destroying the entire yard.”

Dean nods and shoots her a grin. “Sure thing. You guys have plans for dinner?”

“Grocery shopping’s on the list. We’ll feed you two, if you’re still here, but don’t you think you can take over my kitchen.”

“I only blew it up that one time!” Dean protests before closing the door after her and turning back to Cas. 

He already looks better, behind lines of wards and capacitors soaking up the extra energy. Dean expected that. The warding on his house is almost as deep as what Charlie and Jess have, and it’s good to know that it will work for Cas too. “You look better. Do you feel better?”

Inhaling, Cas thinks for a moment before nodding. “I think so. I don’t understand why though. Or why we’re here.” Wincing, he loops a finger in Dean’s belt loop and pulls him closer. “Dean, it feels terrible at the auto shop.”

“I… I didn’t think about that this morning. Otherwise, I would have let you stay home, then come over here when I got off work.” He tries to remember when the last time they’d redone the warding at the shop, but can’t come up with an answer off the top of his head. 

Dean leads him towards the kitchen. “Let me just…” He trails off as he pulls the backdoor open and waves down Charlie so she knows they’re here. “You felt okay at the house, right?”

Cas shrugs, staying close. “I did. But something happened when I touched your altar and--” he breaks off. “Is that supposed to happen? Feeling like something, someone, is peeling you open?”

Dean shivers despite the warm room. He knows exactly the feeling Cas is talking about, and he isn’t nearly powerful enough for the Gods to take an interest in him. “Doesn’t happen often, but yeah. Sometimes.”

Charlie lets herself in the backdoor, pausing as soon as she catches sight of them. “What the...?” Shaking her head, she pushes past them to the sink and washes her hands. “Dean, where’d you pick him up?”

Dean shakes his head. “It’s uh… well not a long story, but you need to hear it all.” Turning, he reaches for Cas's hand and deliberately reaches for the formal oaths they stopped using back when they were kids. “Truth for truth, the repayment of your hospitality with our own in turn.” 

Patiently, he waits for her response. 

Charlie’s eyes widen in shock, fumbling for the formal response. “Bread from my table, wine from my cup shall be yours.” She shakes her head. “Now what in the seven hells?”

“Char, this is Castiel. Cas, Charlie.” Slowly, he leads them to the table. “Cas isn’t from around here, and has no idea what’s going on.” He sighs. “ _I_ have no idea what’s going on.”

“And I assume that has something to do with why you just used our true names? For fuck’s sake, Dean, I don’t know him from Joe.”

“I know. But this is a special case. I promise.” Briefly, he rubs his forehead, feeling Cas squeeze his hand in response. “Cas is from a parallel universe.”

She boggles for a moment before pushing back from the table. “I’m making coffee. Tell me.” 

It doesn’t take long to explain everything that they know, Charlie concentrating on every word. When Cas reaches the end, explaining the feeling he had at the shop, she nods. “Yeah, there’s lots of bad mojo around some of those cars. And having Max around won’t help any.”

Dean looks up sharply. “Max is a problem? Since when?”

“He’s not a _problem_ , he’s just Max.” Charlie shrugs. “It’s coven shit. You know how it is.”

Sighing, Dean leans back in his chair. Yeah, he knows. Coven shit, therefore, he can’t know. Not powerful enough, not properly a member. 

“No, I don’t know.” Cas interrupts.

Dropping Cas's hand, Dean pushes away from the table. “I’m… going to go check your garden. Or something. Not here.” He slams out the backdoor before Charlie can start to explain, before he hears enough to start the throbbing migraine that’s his punishment for hearing something he shouldn’t. 

At least he’s close enough with Charlie and Jess that he’ll still get to see Cas once things fall into their natural order, still have a chance to be friends with him. It’s not the exact thing he wants, but it’s better than nothing. And more friends is always good.

(That’s the comforting lie every teacher he ever had told him, at any rate.)


	3. Chapter 3

The headache Cas’s been fighting all morning makes a determined effort to flare back to life when the door slams. He winces before carefully calling up his best customer service face and turning to Charlie. “Excuse me, I think I should…”

“Stay.” Her voice drops, stern and commanding, completely unlike her voice before. Her eyes flash oddly in the light, and unseen weight crashes down on his shoulders. “Dean cannot know what we have to discuss.”

Swallowing, Cas squares his shoulders, trying to push the weight off. “Dean brought me here. I don’t… There is nothing to discuss with you without him present.”

“It doesn’t matter what you want.” Her voice is tight, but sounds like her again. “He can’t hear this. We tried once, when we were in high school. Gave me and Sam migraines and nearly killed Dean. The Laws didn’t care then, they’re not going to care now.” Frowning, Charlie twists around to watch Dean out the back window. “And since Sam ran off to Omaha, I really can’t risk Dean.”

Cas rolls his eyes, wrapping his hands around his mug. “Fine then. What do I need to know?”

She doesn’t say anything, simply stretches out a hand and grabs his arm. There’s a sudden sense of connection. Someone -- Charlie at a guess -- knocking at some sort of mental door while he bumbles around trying to figure out what he’s doing.

He fumbles twisting open the door, realizing too late what it is. Frantically, he tries to hide the things that are none of her business before--

A forest pours into his mind, trees and moss and shrubs in a slow invasion, wading through the connection he cannot block, cannot stop. She doesn’t mean him harm, he can feel that, but he has no idea how to make her stop, how to organize his own mindscape into something defensible. He’s forced to trust her good intentions.

It takes a moment, watching constructs move, roll, and fold as her mind _breathes_ where it overlaps his. Then it clicks, everything he ever read about mind palaces and organization and everything else flashing through him in a split second and locking into place. Hurriedly, he pulls together a landscape of his own, throwing up mountain ranges, steep sloped with rocky shoulders rising out of the plains.

The forest stops, just over the boundaries, pulling back with shock, before sending out a tendril of _something_. It vibrates, dancing around and waving for attention.

Cas ignores it, busy carefully reinforcing the mountain ranges and hard passes through. He can change it once he has more time, but for now, everything important gets pushed west, beyond gaps and gentle farmland, and over the sea.

He creeps down from his mountains, meets her forest where it lies. He watches the forest for a long moment before daring to reach out to her.

_Dean wasn’t kidding, you really aren’t from around here._

_Even I know he invoked the laws of hospitality._ Cas manages a sigh. _I can’t see how he would cross those._

_There are laws and there are Laws. More than once, he’s--_ She cuts herself off, but not before he can feel her irritation at old slights. _It doesn’t matter. Dean is himself. Let’s get this done._

Charlie retreats before reappearing with a book she pushes into him. Even as a mental construct, it’s heavy enough for him to stagger under the weight. Holding it tightly, he looks at her for a moment before looking at the book. Ancient script he can barely make out flows off the cover and swirls around it, circling his wrist like a shackle.

He ignores it as best he can, focusing on Charlie. _Is there anything else?_ Carefully, he starts to push her towards where her physical hand is touching his arm. As soon as she responds negatively, he jerks his arm away from her. “We are not doing that again.”

“It has to be that way. The Laws are--”

Cas cuts her off, “The Laws, in all their forms, can go fuck themselves.” He pushes away from the table, staggering when his headache redoubles.

“Cas, we’re not done.”

“Yes, we are.” He struggles to keep his temper, his grip tightening on the back of the chair as his knees wobble.

“You need a coven. You’re too powerful, too tempting.”

“I don’t know what that means and I don’t really care.”

For the first time, Charlie actually looks at him, her eyes widening as she takes him in. “Shit, dude. Why didn’t you say something?” She doesn’t wait for him to respond, pushing past him to yell out the backdoor, “Dean, get in here.”

She firmly pushes him back into his chair, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Just sit tight. We can fix this.”

A solid presence shoulders her out of the way, moves in front of him. Dean. Gratefully, Cas allows his eyes to slam shut against the light, trusting Dean to take care of him. Dean carefully knocks his knees apart on the chair, pulling Cas forward to rest his head against his chest, one hand warm on the back of his neck.

He vaguely feels Dean shift in front of him, pulling a chair forward and sitting so Cas can continue to hold onto him. Slowly, the migraine recedes, allows him to open his eyes.

“Hey, Cas. You with me?” Dean’s grip tightens momentarily where it’s slid to his shoulder.

“Yeah.” Cas winces at the sound of his voice. “Can I get some water?” He leans forward again, resting his head against Dean’s neck.

A glass nudges his hand, full of tepid water. “Not too fast.”

The room is silent for a few minutes, Cas carefully sipping his water while Dean and Charlie watch him intently.

Charlie nods once the water is gone, looking puzzled. “I assume the headaches are why you brought him here, Dean?”

“Not really. This morning Cas was--”

“It starts up as soon as he leaves my sight,” Cas cuts in. “Doesn’t stop until he’s touching me.”

“I remember what you and Sam were like when you were getting used to magic. This sort of thing… I’ve never heard of anything like this,” Dean says quietly.

Charlie hmms, looking between them. “That’s weird. I…” She trails off, looking between them. “Was there anything else?”

Cas looks up at Dean, tries to judge if he should mention the altar thing. His face is impassive, stonily staring over both their heads. “Dean’s altar… It… liked me?”

Charlie raises an eyebrow. “His altar?”

“It’s not a big deal, Char. I introduced them this morning,” Dean says curtly. “It doesn’t have much to do with what else is happening.”

“Uh huh.” Charlie looks at them skeptically before shaking her head. “I’ve got some ideas about the separation thing, I’m sure Jess can figure out the rest.”

They move into the living room. It’s dimly lit, with a single window that’s well shaded against the afternoon sun. Dean doesn’t let go of his hand, leading them both to the couch, where he claims the corner and pulls Cas down next to him.

He still has the faint twinges of a headache lurking around his temples, so he goes along with it. Drifting, he listens to Dean and Charlie quietly chat about their lives and exchange gossip.

 

* * *

 

Dean carefully presses a kiss to the top of Cas's head once he’s dozed off. Looking up, Charlie is looking at them both again. “What?”

“I just…” She shakes her head. “I don’t want-- I have an idea of what’s happening here, but I want Jess’s opinion first.”

Well, that’s only a little alarming. “Char, c’mon. Just tell me.”

“How much do you remember from when Sam and I were in school? How our magic came in.”

Dean shrugs with his free shoulder. “It’s been years, and well--” He’d nearly died. What wasn’t fuzzy, he’d made a deliberate effort to forget.

“Yeah.” She momentarily looks conflicted. “Remember how we went from having other friends to only having you, and it stayed like that for years?”

Dean nods. It’d been kinda nice, actually, having someone to talk to who didn’t care about the high school bullshit. Bobby and Ellen had wondered about it, but had too many other things to worry about at the same time. They kept themselves out of trouble, so it slid off the radar. “Still not understanding. It wasn’t a problem and you got over it.”

“Our magic latched onto you, spent years using you to rev up before spells or whatever.”

“Yeah, I know that.” Dean rolls his eyes before reciting. “‘Temporary syncs brought on by family bonds can be formed between any level, as long as the bond is strong enough.’ I could feel it. I can feel Cas too, or could last night. I’m not an idiot, Charlie, even if I couldn’t pass the tests.”

“Wait, you know that you do that?” She stares at him. “What the hell, Dean? We’ve been avoiding bringing it up for years.”

“I don’t _do_ anything. They’re involuntary and temporary, always have been.” Cas stirs on his shoulder. Dean lifts a hand to soothe him, pulling him closer, takes a couple of deep breaths. “Gods know I don’t do much else for our family. What does that have to do with anything? It’s ancient history, or should be.”

“You and Cas are synced,” she drops it like the bomb it is.

He stares at her, “That doesn’t happen, Char.” Quickly, he moves Cas so he’s dozing against the arm of the couch and pushes himself to his feet, swallowing against the sudden rush of fear that threatens to drown him. “Not with failures.”

“We did.”

Dean whirls around, “It’s temporary. You stopped as soon as you found Jess and Eileen. Cas'll find someone too.” His voice shakes as he heads back to the kitchen, starts pulling things out of their fridge so he can do something. “I brought him here because he was alone, thought maybe...”

She follows him. “You knew how powerful he is.”

“No, I didn’t. His entire apartment was a monument to loneliness and I thought--” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter what I thought. He can stay with me until Sam and Eileen can get here, I’ll stay part of things, just like now.” He flashes her a grin, hoping it’ll distract her. “Do you know what Jess was planning for dinner? I can get it started.”

“You’re synced, man.”

Pulling an onion from the basket, Dean starts peeling the paper from it. “It wasn’t enough when we were kids, why would it be now?”

 

* * *

 

The door slams, startling Cas awake on an unfamiliar couch. Blinking, he finds his way back to the kitchen where Dean, Charlie, and her partner are standing. The blonde scolds Dean for something while Charlie uses the distraction to filch slices of carrot from the bowl in front of them.

Cas ignores the girls, coming up behind Dean and wrapping his arms around him, the last vestiges of his headache fading as he does. Dean turns in his arms to face him, leaning down slightly to kiss him before softly asking, “Hey, you feeling better?”

“Yeah.” Turning back around, he extends his hand towards the blonde. “Hi, I’m Cas.”

She raises an eyebrow, but shakes his hand. “Jess. Sorry about running out earlier, you guys got here before I thought you would.”

“It’s not a problem at all.” Dropping her hand, he wraps an arm around Dean’s waist and moves them out of her way.

They chat about inconsequentials for another few minutes while Jess finishes making a casserole of some sort and tosses it into the oven. Herding them all towards the kitchen table, she stares intently at him and Dean.

He tries to focus on the story Charlie is telling -- something about shadow orcs -- but it’s hard with a phantom finger poking him every few seconds. Cas is pretty sure he’s not supposed to notice. Finally, at a lull in the story, Cas twists around to irritably stare back. “Stop poking me.”

Blinking, Jess sits back in her chair at the counter. “You could feel that.”

“It’s hard not to.” All three of them turn to face him, shock running across their faces. “What? Is that weird?”

Jess stands up and moves towards him. “Not weird, just… unexpected. Dean, could you feel anything?”

Dean thinks for a moment before shrugging. “Kinda? But it could have just been Cas flinching.”

She tilts her head to look at them closer. “Cas, I need to touch you, but that’s it. You don’t have to allow me access to your mind.”

Meeting Dean’s eyes, he nods tentatively. Jess sits across from him at the table and extends her hand. Cas takes a moment to squeeze Dean’s hand before hooking their feet together.

Jess’s mental touch is nothing like Charlie’s. There’s no insistent knocking at a door he can barely find, no invasion. Instead, it’s soft and clinical, fluttering around the edges.

She drags over something, returns to it, and passes over. After a few seconds, she pulls back and nods. “Dean, can you go into the other room for a moment?”

A bolt of irritation spears through Cas from out of nowhere. It’s not his fear, wherever it comes from. Dean’s face is impassive as he pushes back from the table and stalks out of the room.

Jess doesn’t give Cas time to bring his attention back. Her mind presses into him again, running along the fault line she found and dragging his attention to it. Except, looking at it closer, fault line is the wrong term. A different texture, grain running counter to the rest. It’s warm too, heat suffusing the entire area. Jess withdraws while he’s still examining the area, poking at it, trying to figure out what’s different about that spot.

Giving up, he shakes his head. “What’s up with that area?”

“Dee!” Charlie calls. “You can come back now. Maybe you’ll listen this time.”

Dean sticks his head around the corner, looking as startled as Cas feels. “Already? That didn’t take--”

Jess waves her hand. “Checking doesn’t always take a long time. Particularly when I know you.” She waits for Dean to sit back down and take Cas's hand. “Short version: you two have synced up.”

Dean starts to protest next to him. Cas squeezes his hand before looking towards Charlie and Jess. “And syncing is… okay? Normal?”

It’s incredibly common,” Dean cuts in sourly. “It’s the basis for coven formation. But not with recessives like me.”

“Dean, if you don’t want to believe me, fine, but don’t be an ass about it.” Jess rolls her eyes before turning back to Cas. “Your magic meshes perfectly. That’s it.”

“Hey, Dean.” Charlie reaches across the table to lay a soothing hand on his arm. “We’re not trying to hurt either of you here. You only come to me for this shit when you need someone you can trust. Well, guess what? Trust me and trust Jess.”

Cas leans back in his chair, silent, watching Charlie. She and Dean have some sort of conversation purely with their eyebrows before Dean relaxes slightly and nods. “Sorry, Char. Jess.”

Charlie waves it away. “Just… Listen, okay? This isn’t about you. It’s about Cas.” Turning towards Cas again, she reaches over to grab Jess’s hand. “You’re synced with Dean, whatever. Doesn’t really matter. But you’re powerful enough--” She cuts herself off. “How long did you study the spell that sent you guys back here?”

Cas shrugs, “Not long, I mean… It took me a few minutes to draw the circle, but that’s about it.”

“And after Dean made the alterations?”

“Those only were for the circle. I barely even glanced at the book, I was too busy--”

Jess’s eyebrows jump up. “Wait, altered circle, and you still got here in one piece without looking at the spell?”

“Without even saying it aloud,” Dean interjects.

“Dude, Dean, you know better than that. What the fuck?”

“I know how to make a singular circle plural, Jess. I helped Char and Sam for years. It’s easy magic.”

Cas sits back and lets them argue it out. He still doesn’t understand why it’s a big deal. Surely, if magic is as common here as they say it is, that sort of thing happens all the time. And if it’s not, well, it’s probably Dean’s influence. He certainly doesn’t know what he’s doing.

Carefully, he finds the giant ball of information Charlie had shoved into his mind earlier. He’s not entirely certain how to deal with it -- she’d shoved it in without any instructions -- it’s just a foreign thought that hovers like an annoying song in the background of his mind. Mentally shrugging, he opens the cover and turns to the first page.

The contents spring out, flying to other corners of his mind. At first, it’s not too bad -- info dumps about the Laws and the like -- but then he catches parts trying to forcibly overwrite his mental landscape into something else, make it into a more hospitable environment for something.

Watching it from a distance, it looks like a software upgrade. One that he didn’t agree to and doesn’t want. Not if it means he can’t have Dean, and that’s pretty clearly what some of those looks between Charlie and Dean were. He wants to have much closer look before this released into his psyche -- this has the possibility to be worse than objectivism -- so he forcibly pulls everything back, pushes it back into the book to be dealt with later.

The timer on the oven shatters his concentration, pulling him back to Charlie and Jess’s warm kitchen with its obnoxious buzzing. He stares at them all, Charlie bustling into the kitchen to turn off the buzzer while Jess pulls down plates and silverware and Dean grabs a few beers from the fridge. They live with this, have never known anything else, not as adults anyway.

Dean might be the only one not affected by the malevolence that created the Laws, if they require a certain level of power to work or whatever. Or he’s wrong. What he’s interpreting as ill-will could simply be poorly programmed instructions.

Somehow, he doesn’t think that’s true though.

 

* * *

 

In the short amount of time they’ve known each other, Dean’s picked up that Cas is naturally pretty quiet. He doesn’t know why yet -- it might be an introvert thing or something else -- but this level of silence is unusual.

He tries to get Cas involved a couple of times, but there’s nothing. In the end, he leaves him be, willing to wait for him. It’s the only time they’re ever going to have to be something like a couple-- by morning, the Laws will have settled in, made it really fucking clear that witches don’t slum around with recessives and…

Dean gratefully accepts the cup of coffee Jess hands him after dinner. He’s been dead on his feet for hours, running entirely on stubbornness and caffeine.

“So, we need Sam to come home.” Charlie drops the statement like a dead weight.

Rolling his eyes, Dean carefully sets his coffee on the table. “Great. Go call him then. Cas and I can get out your hair.”

“Dean.”

“What do you want from me, Char? It’s you four that have the coven. It’s been nearly ten years since you and Jess got together, Eileen will need to be here too. _You_ call them.”

“He’s your brother, Dean.”

“And you’re the one who stole his girlfriend and I’m the one who introduced you.” Dean closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “He doesn’t want to talk to me. And it’s coven business. I can’t be involved, remember?” He can feel his jaw tensing as he struggles not to explode. “Just--”

A hand lands on his arm, not restraining, just resting. “Dean?” Cas's voice cuts through to him somehow. He’s suddenly calmer, less freaked out about Sam, about everything. Artificially so.

“Dammit, Cas. _Don’t do that._ ” Shaking Cas's hand from his arm, he sighs. “Fine. I’ll call him. But you two need to get over your bullshit. I can’t keep getting involved like this.”

Charlie bounces out of her chair to give him a hug, the same way she always does when she gets what she wants. Holding on a moment too long, he feels her relax.

Bolting back the rest of his coffee, he looks at Cas, quiet and overwhelmed. “C’mon Cas. Let’s go home. Thanks for the help and for dinner, ladies.”

They drop the Chevelle off at the shop before walking the rest of the way home. The silence is oppressive by the time Dean’s taking his shoes off. He ignores Cas, moving into the living room and flipping the stereo on. He collapses onto the couch with the crackle-pop of the needle catching its groove and the opening guitar riff of _Immigrant Song_ blasts through the house.

He’s being unfair -- the bullshit he’s dealing with has nothing to do with Cas -- but right now, it’s hard to bring himself to care. Not when he’s about to lose yet another person in his life to magic.

The stereo is too loud, but he can’t bring himself to stand back up and lower the volume. Cas does it for him, turning a couple of knobs until he finds the right one. The balance goes wonky before correcting and the volume falls to a reasonable level.

Dean’s suddenly exhausted, leaning forward and rubbing his temples. “Thanks, Cas.”

“Of course, Dean.” Cas tentatively perches on the edge of the couch, like he’s uncertain he’s welcome. When Dean doesn’t react, he settles further back onto the couch, an arm coming up to rest along Dean’s back. “What’s going on?”

Huffing a laugh, Dean leans into Cas. “It’s-- it’s not nothing, but it’s nothing you can do anything about, so it doesn’t matter.” He forces a lopsided grin onto his face before turning away. “I should go call Sam. If he leaves now, he’ll be here before it’s too late, then y’all can do the coven bullshit tomorrow and…” He trails off.

“And what?”

“And you’ll be part of their coven and have a place here.”

“Dean, you’re skipping steps.” Cas leans back, away from Dean. “I thought I already had a place here, with you? That we were building something.”

Dean shakes his head before pushing to his feet. He needs a drink. Because Cas needs this spelled out for him. He didn’t grow up with this, doesn’t have written into his bones (yet) the differences between them and how that means they’ll never be more than a ‘what if.’

Cas follows him into the kitchen, watches him pull the whiskey off the top of the fridge and take a swig. “Dean.”

Shaking his head again, Dean pulls a couple glasses from the cabinet and dumps a couple fingers worth of whiskey in both. “I thought _maybe_ I’d get to keep you. Have one fucking thing that didn’t go to shit the moment the Laws touched it. Should have known better. By morning, you’ll be lining up to join a coven, Sam and Charlie will--” He cuts himself off. No reason to unload all this onto Cas. It’s not his issue.

Cas snatches his glass out of his hand. “Dean whatever-the-fuck-your-middle-name-is, start talking sense, or I will do something drastic.”

Dean contemplates just taking another drink from the bottle, but Cas shifts to block it as well.

“Dammit, Cas. Fine. You want to know what’s going to happen?” Swallowing, he stares out the kitchen window, watches the trees move in the breeze, thinks about how the two hours of sleep he got last night was the best he’s gotten in years. “You’re going to go to bed tonight thinking… whatever. Maybe we have a future, maybe I’m hot and kind or whatever. But in the morning, you won’t. You’ll see things as they really are. The loser who kidnapped you away from your home, your family, and brought you here. I’m not boyfriend material, or your brother, or anything else.”

Cas opens his mouth, but Dean keeps going. “We’ll stay friends, of course we will. And I’ll fix things around your house, your car, make trinkets for you to enchant. You deserve that, I’m not saying you don’t. I just…”

“You’ve gotten the shit end of the stick your entire life and don’t see how things can possibly be different.” Cas shoots back his whiskey before finishing Dean’s tumbler. He pours more into the glasses and hands Dean one. “That what happened with Charlie?”

“And Sam. Gods, we were so _stupid_. Thinking I could help form their coven, even though we knew I was never going to be able to hold up my end.”

“But you had to try.”

“Of course I did. We did. It was only the three of us, Jess hadn’t moved to town yet. It was us or not at all.”

Cas nods before setting his glass down on the counter behind them. “If joining a coven means losing you, I want no part of it. That sounds terrifying actually, an outside force changing how I feel.”

Dean shrugs, wraps an arm around Cas. None of this is going to matter in the morning, so he might as well enjoy it while he can. He’s weak, but--

The phone shatters their quiet.

Sighing, Dean releases Cas so he can answer it. “Yes?”

“Hey, Dean. It’s Sam.”

“Sam. Hey. What’s up?”

“Jess messaged me, said we needed to have a meeting. Wanted to check that my room…” He pauses, the tension between them obvious for a moment. “I wanted to see if we can stay at the house or if we need to get a hotel.”

Dean grimaces, but there’s only one acceptable answer. “Yeah, Sam. You can stay here. Of course you can.”

“Great! We’re leaving as soon as Eileen gets changed.” Sam hangs up before Dean can respond.

“Awesome.” He lets Cas take his weight as he sags against the wall in defeat. “Sam and Eileen will be here in a few hours.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“Not really, but you should probably know.”

“Not if you don’t want to tell me. It can wait. It can all wait.” Cas wraps his arms around him, dropping a kiss to his temple.

Dean nods against Cas's collar bone, trusting him to hold him for right now.


	4. Chapter 4

They spend forty-five minutes picking up the already clean common areas of Dean’s house. It reminds Cas a lot of the frantic cleaning that happened the last time his parents came to visit: mostly nerves. He’s is pretty certain that Dean would like to clean more just to have something to do. Eventually, Dean runs out of things to clean and pronounces it good enough for family. Instead, Dean shakes off his melancholy (or hides it again. Cas isn’t sure if he can tell the difference at this point) and leads Cas back into the front room with the crystal garden.

“I’ve got some work I need to get done. You okay just hanging out?” Dean barely waits for Cas's nod before he pulls out some tools and starts crafting something. Cas watches him for a few minutes before he turns his attention to the necklace Dean had made for him last night, dangling around his neck. Holding the amethyst in one hand, Cas sits on the window seat among the crystals.

The crystals grow as he sits there, half-meditating and half watching the sunset. These are different varieties than last night’s concentration, but there’s extra pots around. Cas is careful to only visualize one type per pot, just like if he was building an herb garden back home.

Home.

He wonders how long it will take for anyone to realize that he’s gone. Nora will probably be the first one, assuming she doesn’t just fire him when he doesn’t show up for his shift tomorrow. He’ll miss Hael’s weekly phone call, but that happens often enough she won’t think anything of it right away. Gabe’s been dead for years, his parents stopped speaking to him at the same time…

Sighing, he opens his eyes to see that he’s managed to overgrow a pot of topaz.

He’d always thought, when he allowed himself to dream about it, that magic being real would make his life easier. Magic, the great equalizer. Instead, this world’s just as fucked as his, possibly more so. It’s far more stratified than he ever dreamed it would be. Magic users and non barely interacting? Not forming relationships with each other? It’s a nightmare.

He probably could have anticipated Dean’s reaction if he’d paid attention at the shop today. Sure, Bobby had been friendly enough, but no one else had stuck their heads in to chat, or done more than glare in their direction. And then they’d gone to see Charlie, who’d turned Dean out of the room without thought not just once, but twice.

It takes no time at all to fill several more pots with his crystallized feelings and he gives up on getting anywhere productive. He’s exhausted anyway, he might as well go to bed. Cas's joints pop as he stands, too long curled up in the window seat, and he stretches slightly before moving towards Dean.

“Are you ready for bed?” Dean doesn’t even look up, grunting and continuing to solder the intricate wire and crystal structure he’s working on. Gently, he touches Dean’s shoulder to get his attention and kisses his temple. “Good night, Dean.”

Dean barely responds.

Sighing in disappointment, he uses the bathroom at the rear of the house and changes for bed. He pauses briefly in front of the Dean’s bedroom door, but doesn’t go in. Not with Dean not speaking to him, not when things are so tense. Not that he knows _why_ things are tense, just that they are.

He wants to say tomorrow things will be better, but everyone seems pretty certain that he’ll wake up different tomorrow. Given the way the Laws were rearranging things in his head earlier, that actually sounds hideously plausible. He has no idea how any of this works, how it’s supposed to work.

This would all just be so much easier if Dean wasn’t blowing so hot and cold. Maybe then, he’d be confident enough to do something. He wants to pull Dean away from that desk, protect him from whatever he’s worried about, prove him wrong, and bitch out anyone who ever made Dean feel less than worthy.

Instead, he pulls a quilt from one of the window seats in the living room and lies down on the couch to sleep. It’s not perfect, and it’s certainly not as comfortable as Dean’s bed, but he’s used to sleeping like this. The only thing different from home is the lack of digital clock on the bookshelves.

He dozes off quickly, but startles awake when the Laws emerge from their block, starting to rummage around in his mental landscape again, disturbing the mountains and cliffs, looking for a way beyond the range. Pushing his mental turmoil aside, he constructs more defenses, adds mazes and box canyons to keep them busy while he’s sleeping.

He might not be able to stop them forever, but he can buy some time.

Dean’s slapped his alarm off before Cas has unburied himself in the morning. Stumbling to his feet, Cas waits for the shower to turn on before he starts towards the coffee pot. The pantry is quiet and dim this morning. Cas gets why Dean keeps the coffee pot there, despite the space in the dining room. It’s soothing to not have to deal with the morning sun.

He takes stock while waiting for the coffee to brew. Other than feeling a little hungover, nothing feels different, but how would he know? He’s only got Harry Potter fanfiction and Stackpole’s Star Wars novels to thank for being able to manage a mental defense at all. Anything more in depth is going to require someone more experienced to check him over.

Maybe Dean could--

Cas cuts the thought off before it can go any further. There’s no way to know if Dean even wants to see him, let alone to poke around in his brain.

Eventually, the shower in the other room turns off. Cas pours himself a cup of coffee, thinks about it, and pours a second for Dean. Taking a deep breath, he takes both cups to Dean’s room and knocks quietly. “Dean? I brought coffee.”

The door jerks open, Dean’s glare softening as soon as he sees the mugs. “Cas. You…” Opening the door further, he ushers Cas into the room, closing the door securely behind him. “You’re still here.”

“Where else would I be?” Tilting his head to the side, Cas watches a drop of water run from behind Dean’s ear and into the hollow of his throat. Giving himself a quick shake, he watches a smirk flirt across Dean’s face before it settles back into early morning irritation.

Dean takes a mug from him, setting it on the dresser. “With the way you disappeared last night…”

Cas raises an eyebrow. “Yes. Disappeared. To the _couch._ After asking if you were coming to bed. And kissing you,” he says dryly.

“You’re still here. And bringing me coffee?”

Inhaling deeply, Cas takes pity on him, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. “Can we… hold off on this discussion until I’ve showered and finished this?” He lifts his cup of coffee.

Dean stares at him intently for a few seconds before nodding. “Yeah, sure. I’ll uh… go start breakfast? Make sure Sam and Eileen are up?”

“Sure. Just--” Cas glances down deliberately, “You might want to put pants on.”

In this light, he can see the blush that colors Dean’s face and chest under the freckles. Dean grabs his cup of coffee to try to hide it, but not fast enough.

Grinning, Cas grabs his shower shit from his backpack and heads towards the bathroom. Whatever was eating Dean last night appears to have worked its way out of his system.

He keeps his shower short since the still-unseen Sam and Eileen still need to get cleaned up, and puts on the least worn clothes he brought with him.

He’s pulling on his jeans when he feels the same tension as yesterday -- apparently a feature in Dean’s morning ritual -- rising sharply before it snaps and resolves itself. It’s not nearly as alarming this morning, a familiar edge to it. Just another thing to get used to. Nodding, he picks up his coffee from the dresser and finishes it off.

Cas throws a shirt on and hurries out to the living room before Dean wakes Sam and Eileen. “Dean. Wait. I need… want… to talk to you about something”

Dean’s back stiffens slightly, but he nods and holds his coffee cup up. “Yeah, Cas, sure. I, uh, need more coffee, but it’s a nice morning. Wanna sit out back?”

Cas follows him, refilling his coffee and silently starting a second pot as they pass through the pantry and kitchen and out the back door to the screened-in porch. Dean doesn’t have much in the way of furniture out here, just a faded wicker loveseat. Cas can see how this would quickly become his favorite area of the house.

If he’s allowed to keep it.

Tentatively, he reaches for Dean’s hand and sighs in relief when he’s allowed to take it. “You said last night, I would feel different this morning. Charlie implied it.” He squeezes Dean’s hand when he tries to pull back. “Dean, _I don’t_. I feel the same this morning as I felt yesterday morning or the other night.”

“That… that doesn’t happen, Cas.” Dean watches him with wide eyes. “That can’t happen. The Laws…”

“Near as I can tell, they didn’t implant. I could feel them trying but--” he shrugs, “there’s no sign of them this morning.”

“Right. And why would that happen?”

Swallowing, Cas closes his eyes. “Sometimes good things do happen.”

“Not in my experience.”

Breathing out, Cas sets his coffee mug on the floor. “What do you want from me, Dean? You bring me here, hoping for… I have no idea what. Insist I meet your friends, then freak out because something happens that you weren’t expecting. You’d already mentioned that I was pretty magical, so what exactly you _were_ expecting is beyond me.” Checking himself, he shakes his head. “I wanted to make this work. I _want_ to make this work. But if you’re certain this is doomed, then maybe I shouldn’t try.”

Cas pushes himself to his feet, picking up his coffee mug. “I’ll be around, I guess.” He doesn’t slam the door out to the backyard, but it’s a near thing.

So much for this being a better start.

 

* * *

 

Dean watches Cas stomp down the stairs and into the grass before finding a spot in the morning sun and stretching into some yoga position.

Dean collapses back into the narrow loveseat and staring at the tile floor, finally processing what Cas said, too little, too late.

The Laws always take hold, always change the person, always make it pretty fucking obvious that recessives are trash and should rot in some hell or another. That’s how it works, how they’ve always worked. That’s how it worked with his dad, his brother, his best friend…

But Cas brought him coffee this morning, kissed his cheek, said he felt no different today than yesterday, only closed himself off when Dean denied the possibility. Maybe he was telling the truth, maybe somehow…

Maybe Dean’s fucked this up too, before it even had a chance to start. Especially since he can _still_ feel Cas's anxiety.

Footsteps on the stairs distract him from his thoughts, Eileen and Sam coming downstairs. Sighing, he picks up his coffee cup and heads into the kitchen to do… something.

Eileen waves on her way through the kitchen, heading directly for the coffee. Dean waves back and pulls the milk out of the fridge, handing it to Sam as he passes to take into the pantry. “Go on into the dining room, guys. Cereal for breakfast this morning.”

There’s a brief pause while Sam signs with Eileen before following her through to the rest of the house. Dean takes a couple moments to breathe and try to remember his limited sign language before picking up the cereal boxes and following.

“Where is the new kid?” Sam asks as soon as Dean sets things down. “Unless he’s staying with Charlie.” He doesn’t even try to hide that he thinks that would be best, anything to avoid Cas getting involved with Dean.

Dean shakes his head and waves towards the back. “He’s out back, doing yoga or something, I don’t know what.” He doesn’t have the signs for half that, so he points towards Cas while fingerspelling his name.

They both nod, falling into one of their rapid-fire silent conversations, leaving Dean to watch his cereal slowly become a soggy mess. It’s just as well, he’s not sure how much he wants to talk this morning anyway.

He’s still idly spooning milk over his cereal, accomplishing nothing, when Cas comes in. Wincing at the sudden spike of _something_ coming from Cas, he does the introductions, signing slowly as he speaks. “Cas, this is Eileen and my brother, Sam. Guys, this is Cas.”

Everyone waves awkwardly at each other before diving back into their breakfast. It stays awkward. Cas silently gathers up the bowls when they’re done and takes them into the kitchen to wash. Eileen glances between Dean and Sam and flees after him.

“Why’d you bring him here, Dean?” The disappointment is heavy in Sam’s voice, every word another thing he failed. “The right thing to do was to leave him be. Now, what, you want us to take care of him?” Sam sets down his coffee cup. “Wasn’t enough to screw things up for me, but you had to ruin some stranger’s life too. Anyone else’s life you’re planning on fucking up?”

Dean doesn’t bother arguing. This is nothing new, just another variation of the bullshit Sam’s been spouting since they tried to form a coven and failed. Since before Dean’d introduced Charlie to Sam’s girlfriend and ruined his and Jess’s relationship.

All the same, it hurts worse this time. Because that _is_ what he’s done. Pulled Cas away from his family, his job, his life, just because Dean was… something. Infatuated, maybe.

Dean keeps his mouth shut. There’s nothing to say. The man sitting across from the table hasn’t been the kid Dean grew up with in almost a decade. He shakes his head and picks up his cup, filling it again with coffee before walking out the patio door, trying to figure out what he’s going to do.

Looking towards the house, where he can feel the anger and sorrow pouring off Cas, the reality of the sync starts to sink in. No matter what, he and Cas will always have the connection he’s been trying to burn out. That won’t end, ever. A profound bond between two magics or some such shit.

Accepting that makes the rest of it easy. Sighing, he pushes something like affection and regret along the sync-bond, trying to spot Cas in one of the windows while he circles the house. He finds him on the front porch, with yet another cup of coffee on the swing next to him. “Can I, uh, sit?”

Warily, Cas nods, picking up his mug to make room.

“I... I screwed up. I should have listened to you, to Charlie, to Jess. You in particular, would never try to hurt me, I don’t think.”

“I don’t make a habit of trying to hurt people, Dean.”

“Yeah.” Sheepishly, Dean reaches up the rub the back of his neck. “You’re right, I just… I freaked out a little. It’s been two days, and I can’t stand the thought of losing you.” Cas is silent. “It scares me.”

“I’m sorry too.” Cas hesitates a moment before reaching for Dean’s hand. “I barely do mornings on a good day. Mornings after my entire worldview has been shaken...”

Dean squeezes Cas's hand, sinking into the warmth of their sync-bond. “Yeah, mornings suck.” It’s not perfect, but it’s a damn sight better than it was earlier. They sit there for about twenty minutes, slowly getting used to each other again, silently drinking their coffee.

Cas inhales after his coffee is done, setting it down on the rail. “That needs to be my last cup for a while,” he says wryly.

Dean grins, “Getting jittery?”

“That’s one word for it.” They fall silent again, listening to the birds and watching his neighbors start to wake up.

Charlie’s bright yellow Gremlin pulls up to the curb shortly after nine, her and Jess piling out with a couple grocery bags. Lifting a hand to wave, Dean mentally braces himself for a long day. Cas barely glances at him when he tenses, instead running a thumb over their combined knuckles.

Suddenly, he remembers that Cas had wanted him to check something about the Laws not implanting. It’s too late now -- the girls are already here -- but later, when everyone’s gone and his territory isn’t being invaded anymore...

Jess’s work bag is on the bench in the foyer, along with another bag of Charlie’s. They’re both in the dining room, unloading the juice and fruit they brought onto the built-in buffet in the dining room. It’s the same routine as always, watching Sam and Charlie adjust to each other, like they didn’t grow up together, like they didn’t form the damn coven themselves, like they don’t mesh at all. Jess and Eileen hang back, pretty much ignoring the display in the dining room in favor of retreating to the kitchen.

Normally, Dean would join them, hiding from his brother and best friend. He can’t do that today, not when Sam’s already pissed off. No need for Charlie to bear the brunt of it. Instead, he sends Cas on into the kitchen before organizing the breakfast foods the girls brought.

 

* * *

 

Cas feels Dean’s anxiety spike as soon as they enter the house. He’s still not sure how, but that’s certainly not his own unease trickling down his spine. He squeezes Dean’s hand as they pass through the living room before escaping the building storm in the dining room and into the kitchen.

He’s never been particularly outgoing, and this many people with emotions running high, it’s threatening to overwhelm him. Add in what he’s picking up from Dean and Cas is surprised he’s able to do much of anything.

Things are far less tense in the kitchen. Whatever is happening in the other room, Jess and Eileen are clearly not involved, chatting silently, the occasional giggle. Cas's ASL is pretty much non-existent -- a class in junior high, most of which he’s forgotten, and a few dirty signs he picked up in college -- but it’s obvious the girls are having a good time.

It just makes the tension in the other room even more obvious.

Jess lights up when she sees him, pulling him into a hug. “How are you feeling? Is everything alright with Dean?”

Cas shrugs, accepting the hug and briefly leaning his head against her shoulder. “Physically, I’m fine. Headache is gone.” Sighing, he turns around so they can both see him. “Emotionally? Well...” He lifts his hand in a see-saw motion.

“Dean being a dick?” Eileen asks.

Cas shakes his head. “He’s scared, I think, more than anything else. But so am I, nothing new there.”

They both nod.

Sighing, Cas looks at Jess. “I, uh...could you check something?”

“What’s up?”

“Charlie did… something… yesterday. Forcibly tossed something to do with laws into my head.” Jess’s head pops up. “I don’t think it worked. And I’m really okay with that, because nothing needs to be digging around in my brain without my consent, _including Charlie_ , but…”

“Wait, you could feel it? _No one_ can feel that, Cas. It was designed to be painless.”

“That was your takeaway? Something was rummaging around _in my head!_ ”

“I don’t…” Jess trails off. “There’s nothing harmful in them.”

“That is _clearly_ not true and you know it,” he snaps. “Unless being a dick to your best friend is a feature here.” He sighs, runs a hand through his hair. He shouldn’t take it out on Jess, she’s not the one who invaded. “I know what the Laws are, what circumstances they apply in. But the rest of it -- not wanting Dean, thinking he’s lesser, whatever -- isn’t happening. Even if I’d gotten that part, I’d be fighting it tooth and nail anyway.”

Eileen looks between them, frustration written across her face, and Cas suddenly realizes that they’ve not been facing her and she’s probably missed everything they’ve said. He fumbles out an apology.

She nods, hands flying in a complicated sentence completely beyond his ability before she grabs his hand and pulls him toward her when he shakes his head in confusion.

“Let’s try this,” she says, offering him a sympathetic smile as she initiates a connection.

The process is the exact same as it was yesterday with Charlie: someone knocking on his mind, and when he answers, she flows in.

Where Charlie was a dim forest, festooned with vines and spider webs, Eileen is a placid lake, firmly outside his boundaries, nothing on the surface except a few plants sticking above the water. More confident today, he puts his mountains behind him and stretches out to wade into her depths.

A breathless sigh and then, _Yes, this is much easier._

Startled, he looks around the overgrown and murky lake, trying to figure out what he needs to do.

_Can you show me what happened to the Laws?_

Nodding, Cas backs out of the lake. _Charlie dropped a big ball of something here. The Laws, I guess. It tried to…_ Cas pauses, starts over. _The only thing that gets to overwrite how I react to things, how I do things, is me. Nothing benign would try something like that without permission._

It takes a brief moment to figure out how to move them to one of the furthest reaches of his mind and the small box canyon. He’d built mazes and other distractions, anything to keep the malicious files from digging deeper. They’ve sent out tendrils, trying to climb sheer walls, but with little success.

The infection has burned itself out, leaving the information he actually needs strung out along the canyon floor as debris. _I corralled it here before going to sleep last night._ Eileen nods before she starts to retreat, falling back to her kelp-filled lake.

He gets a sense of general satisfaction and sharp approval as he follows her. Politely, he stays in the shallows, within sight of the shore while she goes rummaging for something.

(Cas isn’t entirely certain how he knows this is the polite thing to do, only that it is. Maybe the hair-thin connection with Dean, maybe one of those scattered pages of information left behind.)

The contact cuts out without warning, Eileen’s lake disappearing, leaving him floundering for a way back.

As soon as he opens his eyes, he’s assaulted by very loud people ignoring his gasps for air and Eileen’s red face. Sam has an arm wrapped around Eileen, like he just pulled her away.

Jess starts screaming about something being safe or not safe and it’s far too much for Cas.

Stumbling back, he ducks around Charlie and dashes through the back door and into the yard. Pausing for a brief moment, he tries to center himself, to feel the soft ground beneath his feet, Dean in the other room, but the anger and tension are still too near, making it impossible for him to think. He has to get some distance from this mess.

He needs space. Needs to get out. His body moves without thought, vaults the fence and scrambles out onto the street. He’s blocks away before he calms down enough to think of a destination. The repair shop. It’ll be empty. Quiet. Safe. He can get his feet back under him there while the others calm down.

He runs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, good news: I'm done editing and will be uploading two chapters a week now.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second chapter posted today! Make sure you've read chapter 4 first!

Dean’s _not worried_ about Cas, despite running out like he was on fire. He can feel Cas’s mental state through the sync -- he’s overwhelmed, needs some space -- and Dean can’t blame him. He sends a little peace and understanding as best he can. For now, Dean can focus on playing peacemaker, getting Sam calmed down, and getting everyone to stow their crap so they actually start talking to each other.

Then the sync with Cas cuts out, stops dead like Cas is--

He must say or do something, because Sam is at his side immediately. “Dean?”

Dean can barely breathe, let alone respond. His vision narrows down to a single point, his hearing cuts in and out while his heart races. It feels like Sam is leaning on his chest with all his weight and…

“Dean!”

Everyone is yelling again. If he could, he’d curl into a ball, away from screaming, but Sam’s holding him flat to the floor. He can’t move.

There’s a hand holding his, too soft, too feminine to be Cas. Where’s Cas? He should be here and their bond is gone and _what is happening_.

“Dean.” Jess grips his face, turns him to face her. “I need you to calm down, okay? C’mon. Breathe with me.”

He blinks rapidly at her, waiting for something, _someone_ , to smother the panic, for Charlie or Sam to step in and take it away. They’ve always taken it away, even after things went bad. They still step in and pull him out of his head when he needs them to. They’re not doing it now. Why aren’t they doing it now?

“Sammy?” He barely recognizes his own voice, strained and weedy.

“Hey, Dean. You’re okay. I’m right here.” Sam’s still kneeling on the floor next to Dean’s head, watching over him.

“No, I… Take it away, Sammy.” Dean inhales sharply as his head starts to pound. “Whatever it is, why… you always take it away. Why aren’t you?” He feels more than sees Sam start and then the soft brush of sign language.

The hand in his squeezes, drawing his attention. “You’re sync’d, babe. On Cas. We can’t.” Jess looks almost as scared as he feels. She would though-- she’s seen what happens when pairs split.

Dean swallows and closes his eyes. “Right. Yeah.” He forces his breath under control, lets go of Jess’s hand. He gets his hands under him and slowly sits up, waiting for the spinning to stop. Letting the cabinet hold him up, he looks around. “Synced and locked. I’m recessive, but still gonna end up just like Dad after all. Wouldn’t that piss him off.”

There’s a brief moment of silence before they explode. Even Eileen joins in, hands flying as she raises her voice, berating him for something or another. He does his best to ignore them, but it’s hard.

He’s always been pretty good at picking up emotional undercurrents. Being in his house, linked into his wards means he can’t ignore the others’ fear and anger, even on top of a breaking sync-bond. It feels like there’s a massive hole in his chest and nothing is going to fill that.

They all know what a broken bond looks like, stared at one every day until they were in their twenties. Nothing is ever the same.

The yelling threatens to send him sliding back into a panic attack, until he walls it off. He tips his head back against the cabinet and tries to get things back under control. Breathe in for a five count, hold for five, breathe out, hold. Repeat. He normally uses it to center himself in the morning, but this… this is a good use too.

The shock fades slowly. He counts and breathes, keeps building the wall between his mind and the wards from the house. Keeping the outside influences away helps, lets him define the giant hole, find the edges. And then, he finds the barest thread where he expects to find Cas.

Cas is alive. Unconscious, and probably in serious danger, but alive.

Slowly, carefully, he pushes himself to his feet. “I’m going to go--” he waves vaguely towards the rest of the house. His brain feels like jello beneath the headache that’s moving in. They ignore him and stay in the kitchen, arguing about whatever it is real witches argue about. It’s just coven shit he’s not allowed to know anyway.

He’s kneeling in front of his altar before he thinks about it, candles lit and incense burning, opening himself up to the universe, begging not for help -- that requires more faith than he has -- but for peace. Dean doesn’t want to be like his father, grieving and angry until he manages to drink himself to death.

He’s not granted peace, but the longer he kneels there, the more numb he feels, his emotions stilling while his heart returns to its normal beat.

Nodding when he returns to himself, he adds additional sacrifices -- a rose quartz the size of his thumb, a shot of the good mead, an extra stick of incense -- to the altar in thanks.

Dean ignores Sam and Charlie hovering in the doorway behind him, walking through the other door and into the living room. The numbness wobbles when he looks at the stereo, the Zeppelin album still on the turntable, so he ignores it, bypassing everything until he gets to the front room with the crystal garden and his tools.

Sam hovers in the doorway there too. “Dean? What are you doing?”

Settling into his chair at his work desk, Dean shakes his head. “I’m not giving him up if I don’t have to. He’s not dead. We just have to find him.”

It takes hours to turn one of the crystals Cas had grown their first night into a pendulum capable of directing them. Hours of careful, painstaking work because he doesn’t trust himself to use any of the charms he knows to ease the way.

Carnelian for healing, for guidance. Celestial silver so the gods take notice.

It’s not the cleanest work he’s ever done, wrapping the wire through and around the top of the crystal, forming a pendant. Rummaging for a chain, he puts it down for the first time since he started, watching it in amazement as it slowly rotates to point towards… something.

Eileen stands at his shoulder, watching it move, before meeting his wide eyes. She smiles and points towards the chain still in his hand, carefully pulling out some crystals he’d previously finished and the copper caps he uses for necklaces.

The pendulum continues to point outside the house, steadily pulling in a single direction, with no change.

“Eileen, you should take this. I can’t--” He’s never been very good at scrying, or drowsing, for all that they’re low-level magics that small children can manage. Better Eileen take it, do the spells and cantrips needed.

A knock on the door breaks his concentration, dropping everything to the desk.

 

* * *

 

Cas's head feels heavy when he wakes up, laid out on a cot in an unfamiliar room. It has none of the warmth and age of Dean’s house, only hospital white walls and cheap store-bought blankets. He thinks it was comforting when he went to sleep, but he can’t recall why.

A brief knock at the door has him struggling to sit up. A slender blonde woman pushes her way inside, accompanied by two men. She’s… familiar. Like he’s spoken to her before, maybe? He can’t remember. The alarm that should accompany the thought is muted, like it’s a random fact, ultimately unimportant.

She smiles tightly. “Good, you’re awake. I was starting to worry.”

“What? Where am I?”

The shorter of the men steps further into the room, gently laying a hand on Cas's arm. “Don’t worry about it. It’s okay. It’s all gonna be okay.”

Euphoria passes over him, encouraging him to relax and just do what he’s told. It curls up in his mind like a warm cat, a sense of contentment and well-being. He doesn’t have to think about the questions they ask, or his responses, just enjoys the lack of fear.

And why should he be afraid? Ruby, Jake, and Ansem aren’t here to hurt him. They want to be his friends, his family. They trust him, won’t start yelling at the drop of a hat.

He floats. It’ll all be okay.

 

* * *

 

Dean makes sure the doors into his workroom are locked while Sam lets Rowena into the house. Whatever she wants, she’s wearing her official chain of office over her dress, so he can’t just kick her out. No matter how much he wants to.

She ignores him as usual, focusing entirely on Sam and the girls. Dean’s long past being hurt by this sort of treatment, but it stings today for some reason.

They’ve done this song and dance before, unannounced visits from the Council at odd hours, waiting for them to get to the point of their presence. It’s an intimidation tactic as much as anything. One they’ve been doing for years, since Charlie and Sam tried to start their coven without an older member to guide them, fresh out of Sam’s sophomore year of high school and ready to take on the world. They got their first visit the next day, at Dean’s bedside in the hospital.

Rowena isn’t the worst of them, just bossy and vaguely untrustworthy. Her insults are better than Michael’s cold indifference or Lucifer’s thinly veiled desire to simply kill him. He’s never gotten a handle on what Bela wants, but she visits the least.

Jess is pulling the second door to his altar room closed behind her when he passes. “Figured you didn’t want anyone you don’t trust in there,” she says quietly.

He nods, “Yeah. ‘Preciate it.” Jerking a thumb towards the living room, he says, “I’m going to get some coffee and tea set up. Watch Sam’s back?”

Charlie and Eileen are staring at each other in the kitchen. Dean scribbles coffee onto the grocery list and puts the kettle on for tea before shoving them both out. “I don’t care that she scares you. Get out of here.”

Eileen pauses to give him a hug, “We’ll get rid of her quick.”

Charlie squeezes his shoulder and follows Eileen out.

The pendulum is a heavy weight in his jeans pocket, shifting independent of his movement as he leans against the wall. He can hear the murmur of voices from the other room, rising and falling with social niceties. Quickly, he lowers the heat on the kettle and pulls out the pendulum, letting it hang free.

“Cas?” Dean whispers. It immediately starts moving in wide circles before settling and pulling in the same direction as before. He breathes in sharply before nodding and shoving it back in his pocket. It’s a start, being able to locate him, but he has to get rid of his _guest_ before he can do anything with it.

He briefly thinks about throwing a handful of something noxious in the tea before he brings it out, but that will just bring trouble down on all of them. He wouldn’t be upset to have his house back to himself, but he might need his family’s backup when he goes after Cas. Instead, Dean pours the water over a decent mint and takes the tray out to the living room.

Rowena looks up from where she’s seated in the armchair, “Ah, Dean. I just thought I’d pop by for a wee chat.” Gracefully, she takes the tea cup he hands her. “You continue to prove your usefulness with your success at finding others who fit in your brother’s coven.”

Dean forcibly relaxes his jaw. “I do what I can.” The expected answer chokes him.

“Such a disappointment when you ended up being a recessive, dear. But you’re earning your keep well.”

Gracelessly, he deposits the tray onto the coffee table and pulls over a chair from the dining room. Everyone else can pour their own damn tea.

Every Council member loves to hear themselves talk and Rowena is no exception. At least he missed her preferred introductory topics -- her (despised) son and (miraculous) grandson -- leaving her with only the reason for her visit.

Finally.

“There were whispers that you were planning on introducing a new member today,” she says, delicately. “Although, I must confess we were a teensy bit confused to hear that news.”

Dean leans back and lets Sam and Charlie take care of this, scratching the shopping list out on a napkin, trying to focus on anything besides Cas.

“I was unaware that the local council took an interest in such things,” Sam blinks. ”The introduction of new members has always been the private business of a coven.”

“Samuel, we take an interest in all goings on.” She sips her tea. “Particularly when we’ve not seen a new witch added to the rolls.”

“We have brought in outsiders before, Rowena. We have to think of the future after all,” Charlie points out with a sickly-sweet smile on her face.

“Not this time, Charlene. Attempts to have a new person join will be blocked.”

“The Laws state--”

“The Laws state that their recognized representative can prevent the formation or expansion of any coven.” Smiling, Rowena sets her tea on the coffee table and rises to her feet. “I trust that our instructions will be followed?” She waits long enough for Charlie and Sam to nod before sauntering to the front door.

They follow her automatically, Dean mostly to keep her from poking her nose into anything else. He follows her out onto the porch, waiting until she gets in her car and leaves.

“I’m gonna assume that was entirely coven business and I shouldn’t have heard it?” Dean asks as the others file out into the afternoon sunshine with him.

“You’ve always been weird, Dean.” Charlie shrugs, “With what we know about Cas, I’m wondering if maybe there were other factors back in high school.”

“Like how no one else has ever nearly died when attempting to join a coven they didn’t fit with.” Sam adds, pushing past them to collapse onto the porch swing. “And with what she just said…” He trails off.

Eileen nods, joining Sam on the swing and cuddling up with him. “There’s no one besides us who even knows Cas is a witch, right?”

Dean shrugs. “I didn’t tell anyone at work, but Max and Victor both saw him and I was a mess. Wouldn’t take much to figure out that there’s something odd about him. I’m sure Bobby figured it out.”

“So who told the Council?” Sam points out.

“What?” Jess asks.

“If no one knew about Cas, then how did Rowena know?” Sam leans forward. “She had rumors that we were thinking about it, but nothing about who. Because there’s been no one new registered with the council this week.”

“You three never did any paperwork.” Dean points out, shifting his weight. “I always thought it was automatic.”

“It is…” Charlie trails off, “as soon as the Laws are fully integrated.”

“Cas said something about that this morning. That they didn’t take or something?”

“Why didn’t you say something earlier?” Sam demands.

“When? When you were picking a fight at breakfast? When you were yelling about Eileen putting herself in danger? Or when I was on the floor because the witch I’m locked with dropped out of contact?” He swallows, worry about Cas rising up to strangle the anger. “I already had a fight with him about it. It’s none of your business.” Shaking his head, he reaches into his pocket for the pendulum, rubbing his thumb over the stone.

Sam has the decency to at least look at little bit sheepish, which is a step above how this conversation normally goes. Dean turns his back and walks back into the house.

 

* * *

 

It starts small, little things that shouldn’t unsettle him as much as they do. The sharpness to Ruby’s smile, Ansem’s eyes following him while he bathes and prepares. Something doesn’t fit, but he drifts anyway. Nothing will harm him, it’s all gonna be okay.

Doubts gather like stones, but every time Cas looks at them, Ansem is there, smoothing them away.

He follows along, puts on the loose pants and tunic they hand him, tamely climbs back into the sedan that brought him to this place, and stares dully at the scenery that passes as they drive to to some park or another.

They lead, and Cas is content to follow. Until suddenly, he’s not.

Cas finds himself, blinking, kneeling in the center of a stone circle with his hands bound behind him when the sense of _wrong_ finally coalesces into something solid enough to jolt him out of the fog. Ansem and Ruby stand in front of him in ornate robes while Jake stands to his side, a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“I ask again, do you come here in full consciousness and consent?” Ruby looks down at him, waiting for a response.

Cas can’t read her face, but he has no issues understanding the appropriate response, especially once Jake’s hand spasms on his shoulder. Not that it matters. “No. I do not. I don’t even--”

Jake squeezes his shoulder, fingers pinching deep into the muscle, cutting him off with a gasp. Ansem looks confused, mumbling something Cas can’t hear over the screaming cicadas.

Ruby looks thrown for a moment before shaking her head. “These questions are a formality, Castiel. You’re ours now.”

She might be right. He has no idea where they are in this ceremony, whatever it is. But he’s aware now, enough to categorically refuse his consent. “ _You drugged me_. How does that count as consent?”

“We never gave you any drugs. Even if you took something before, it’s been over eight hours. You’re perfectly sober.” She grins, shark-like. “Ansem just… encouraged you to... cooperate.”

Cas flexes his arms behind him, testing the ties. They appear to be purely symbolic -- cord wrapped and re-wrapped around his wrists -- enough to keep him bound only as long as he doesn’t fight.

Another wave of euphoria tries to wash over him and he pushes it back, focusing on maintaining his concentration. He digs his fingernails into his forearm, anchoring himself to the here and now.

“Cas, come on. You need to join a coven anyway. Might as well be us.” Jake moves to stand between him and the others.

Cas shakes his head, “I don’t even know you. I don’t want this.”

“Because you know Dean so much better, right?” Jake points out. “Or Sam. Or Charlie.”

Cas ignores him, trying to figure out how to get away from here. That’s the first step. Then he needs to find Dean. Even if he doesn’t understand their connection, there haven’t been any mind games.

Inhaling, he shifts until he thinks he can stand and run easily. He’s never been particularly skilled at fighting, but this feels like he’s running for his life. And he can definitely do that.

Silently, he stretches as best he can, ignoring the argument Ansem and Ruby are having about being able to continue without his consent. Jake waits, watching the two of them more than him.

He seizes his chance when Ruby turns to grab the tools from the altar.

Cas pushes up onto his feet and takes off running, weaving between stones. There’s a short lawn on the outside, leading down to a lake in front of him and a sloping trail off to his left. He runs parallel to the paved trail, not wanting to get caught against the lake if they catch up.

Ruby shouts, her words muffled but her anger carries just fine. When he chances a look back, she and Ansem are tangled together, unable to pass through the circle. Jake has though, chasing after Cas with a determined look.

He spares a brief second to get his bearings. It’s huge park, children splashing in the lake at the bottom of the hill, folks walking their dogs along the paved trail, joggers weaving between groups. He has no idea where he is in relationship to Dean, but surely in a crowd this size someone will be willing to help him, if only to direct him to the nearest phone.

Shrugging away the cords binding his arms, he jumps across the creek that crosses the trail. He barrels toward the busy playground he can see beyond the trees. Unless his kidnappers are genuinely unhinged, they’re not likely to risk causing a scene with that many kids around.

Slowing to a walk, he glances hesitantly behind him, watches as Jake abruptly pulls himself up before running headlong into a couple walking their dogs. Cas turns back around and speeds up slightly to reach the safety of the crowd. He’d prefer to blend in, find a large group walking and intermingle with them, but he’ll take what he can get at this point.

A giant black car pulls into the parking lot to his left, Dean spilling out of the passenger seat before it’s stopped, running towards him, holding something in his hand. “Cas!”

He runs towards Dean, grabbing his hand and turning to find Jake, several dozen feet behind him and coming to an abrupt stop once he’s in view of the children. Nice to know that his half-plan was a decent one. Cas can see Ansem and Ruby coming up the rise, speed walking along the path, trying to look unobtrusive in their formal robes and regalia.

Charlie, Jess, and Eileen follow quickly after Dean, reaching him before Jake can get any closer. Sam takes a little longer, but he’s there within minutes, glaring across the field with a degree of hatred Cas doesn’t recognize.

Jake shakes his head and backs off, stopping Ruby and Ansem as they catch up. They have some sort of conversation before turning around and walking back they way they came.

“Cas? You alright?” Dean swings him around, running his hands over Cas's arms and shoulders, checking for injuries.

He blinks a couple of times, gratefully feeling the renewal of their sync, the same urgent warmth as the other night. Ignoring their audience, he tangles his fingers with Dean’s and drags him over for a kiss.

The rest of the world fades away as he truly relaxes for what feels like the first time in hours. His arms wrap around Dean, pulling him as close as they can get in public. Burying his face in Dean’s neck once the kiss ends, he takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news! I finished editing, so there will be two chapters a week now!


	6. Chapter 6

The others disappear once they reach the house, peeling off to grab dinner or something. Dean wasn’t listening and doesn’t care-- it’s a thinly veiled excuse to get away from him and Cas.

Possibly for good reason. They’re on each other as soon as the door closes behind them, yanking at clothes and kissing frantically.

Slamming Cas into the living room wall, Dean allows him to push his overshirt off while Dean mouths along the column of Cas's neck, sucking and biting. Cas moans, low and dirty, into Dean’s ear.

Cas's hands tug at the hem of Dean’s shirt, yanking it up to his armpits before Dean gets the message and separates long enough to pull it off. Cas takes advantage of Dean’s distraction, flipping them so Dean’s backed into the wall, shoving a leg between Dean’s thighs to keep him there.

Reaching down, Cas pulls off his own shirt, flinging it behind him. Dean thinks he sees it land on the back of the couch, but Cas starts sucking a mark onto Dean’s collarbone and he loses track. Gasping, he pushes at Cas's shoulder, “Cas. Bed.”

Cas backs off a bit, lifting his head to meet Dean’s eyes, pupils blown. Dean grabs Cas's hand and drags him into his bedroom.

It takes more coordination than either of them have to get out of their pants. They fall onto the foot of the bed, kicking off shoes and jeans, stealing kisses and groping each other.

Dean gets down to his boxers first, pressing kisses into Cas's back and shoulders. Taking advantage of his momentary leverage, Dean pulls Cas further up the mattress, kissing everything he can reach. Cas's mouth finds his collarbone again, showering kisses as Dean rolls them over onto their sides.

Shoving a leg between Cas's, Dean pulls back long enough to suck in a deep breath before diving back in. He runs a hand up along Cas's side, pausing to run his thumb over Cas's nipple. Cas shifts his hips, sending lightning up Dean’s spine, moaning into Cas's ear.

Cas does it again, smirking into Dean’s gasp, before rolling them.

Bracing himself above Dean, he kisses him into compliance before moving down, dragging his fingers along Dean’s ribs as he goes. Dean lifts his hips so Cas can strip off his boxers when his fingers catch on them, tossing them to the side.

Dean moans when Cas's mouth lands on his hip, sucking a bruise there before kissing his way over and up Dean’s cock. “Fuck, Cas.”

Cas smiles up at him, meeting his eyes, “I’m trying.” Then he’s swallowing Dean and his already hazy thought processing fritzes out entirely.

Dean grabs the sheets instead of Cas's hair, hips making aborted thrusts that Cas accepts before pressing a hand to his hip, warning Dean to stay still. Deprived of motion, Dean starts babbling. He doesn’t have any control over what he’s saying, praise and promises and gods know what else falling out of his mouth until the only thing is left is chanting “Cas, Cas, Cas,” until--

“Cas, gonna…”

Cas pulls off, wrapping a hand around Dean’s cock as he moves up the bed, kissing him through his orgasm. Cas watches him come down, licking Dean’s release off his hand.

Dean takes a couple minutes to catch his breath, running his hands over Cas's chest as he does. “Holy fuck, Cas. Give me a moment. I’ll…”

“No rush, I can…”

“I want to! Just need a moment.” Rolling them back towards the center of the bed, Dean reaches down long enough to pull Cas's cock through the opening of his boxers, jerking him slowly. He takes his time moving down his torso, kissing and licking anything that catches his eye.

Cas's tattoo below his ribs gets several minutes of attention, sucking and tracing it with his tongue. It doesn’t taste any different, but it feels different, lines raised beneath his lips. Cas twitches when he moves too far towards his back, so Dean focuses on his front, moving down to his hips and towards his cock.

Cas is nearly begging by the time he gets there, trying to peel his boxers off without moving. Dean sits back long enough to strip them off, yanking them past Cas's knees .

Leaning back down, Dean grins before licking the tip of his dick, curling his tongue around the head while continuing to fist the shaft. Cas's hands are scrambling, so Dean reaches up to grab one with his free hand.

He kisses around the head for a bit longer before bringing it to his mouth. Dean takes a moment to savor the taste, sucking lightly before he gets down to business. Alternating pressure with his hand and mouth, Cas is thrusting into his mouth in moments.

It takes next to no time before Cas's hand spasms where it’s curled around Dean’s fingers, choking out, “Dean--” before he’s coming, flooding Dean’s mouth. Pulling off, Dean swallows while meeting Cas's eyes. Cas's hips thrust up again, pushing his cock forward where Dean still holds it.

Dean stretches back out, reaching over to bring Cas's face back into kissing range. They’re both fading fast, kisses gentle as they curl into each other. Dean has the presence of mind to drag the sheet up from the floor and over them before wrapping himself around Cas.

Kissing Cas a final time, he whispers, “I’m glad you’re here,” before they doze off.

Dean wakes with a start a couple hours later when Sam and the others let themselves back into the house. Carefully extracting himself from Cas's hold, he pulls on a t-shirt and sweats before letting himself back into the main room. He pulls the door most of the way closed behind him, enough to dampen some of Sam’s laughter.

All four of them are standing in the living room, watching his bedroom door with thinly disguised interest. When he’s the only one to emerge, Charlie shrugs and heads towards the dining room. Sam ducks through to grab some beer out of the fridge while the rest of them sit at the table. “Thanks for, uh, gettin’ gone.”

Charlie rolls her eyes before accepting the beer that Sam hands her. “A strained bond will be renewed as soon as both parties are safe and in physical contact,” she recites. “In many cases, the renewal will take the form of the same action as the original bonding.”

Dean can feel his cheeks flush at Charlie and Sam’s knowing looks. “It wasn’t exactly the same,” he mutters before shotgunning his beer.

“Like we care, Dean.” Eileen cuts in. “Most bonds turn sexual.”

He does the mature thing and sticks his tongue out at her.

Laughing, Sam passes him another beer. “We’re going to offer to bring him in tonight if we can figure out what’s going on. He’s too powerful, he can’t be left without a coven or this will keep happening.”

Swallowing, Dean nods, the lightness from the teasing collapsing. Even if nothing changes, it will still change things. “Yeah. He needs to be safer than I can keep him.”

“Before we do that though, we need to figure out how he kept the Laws from grabbing a stranglehold.” Charlie briefly looks up at him before drawing designs in the ring left behind by her beer bottle. “If what Eileen saw is right… it’s a bigger deal than we thought.”

Jess reaches over to grab Dean’s hand. “We need to talk about this, and you need to hear it. But if at any point, your head starts to hurt, let us know. You’re a member of this coven, even if it can’t be official.”

Dean blinks, then nods. “I’m going to go get Cas for this. Hold on.”

Pushing the door to his bedroom all the way open, it takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. Cas is sitting in the center of the bed, looking at something in his lap. Crawling up, Dean carefully takes the picture and sets it on the nightstand before capturing Cas's lips in a kiss. “Hey, Sunshine. How you feeling?”

Reaching up to cup the back of Dean’s neck, Cas smiles. “Better now.” They kiss quietly a couple more times before Cas leans back. “What’s up?”

“They want to talk to you. To us, really.”

Cas nods, hesitantly. “I’m not up for another fight, Dean.”

Squeezing his hand, Dean shakes his head. “What happened today scared them. Really scared all of us.” He climbs off the bed before tossing Cas a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He’s not really sure where Cas's clothes have disappeared to, but they need to be found and probably washed at this point.

Letting himself back out into the living room, Dean gets a face full of balled up t-shirt before he even has the door closed behind him. “Dammit, Sam. What the hell?”

“You’re the one who couldn’t even manage to get to your room before you started stripping down.”

“It’s a beautiful act, Sammy,” Dean snarks while shaking out the shirt, glancing down at the design -- some band he’s never heard of -- before messily folding it. “Cas's shirt actually.” He tosses it back in his room, taking Cas's hand in exchange. He pulls Cas over to the couch and drops down into the corner. “So what are we doing?”

Eileen kneels on the floor in front of them with Charlie at her shoulder. “Cas, Charlie needs to get a look at what happened when the Laws tried to impose themselves on you. Can you show her?”

Cas looks over to where Sam is hovering at the other end of the couch, hesitation clear. Dean pulls him more firmly into his chest and Sam moves even further away. It takes him a moment, and several deep breaths before he nods. “Yeah. I can.”

Leaning forward, Dean whispers, “You can stay right here. I won’t let go.”

Cas relaxes against him before kissing him briefly. “Thank you.”

Charlie climbs up onto the couch and practically into Jess’s lap, sitting cross-legged and facing them both. “Just like last time, okay? I’ll knock and all you have to do is open the door.”

Dean tightens his hold as Cas reaches out and takes Charlie’s hand. He doesn’t stiffen, neither does she, but they start breathing as one within seconds. Jess’s hand creeps along the back of the couch, reaching past Charlie’s shoulder. Dean shifts minutely, just enough that he can reach her hand, holding on tight while their partners do this.

Objectively, it doesn’t take that long, barely long enough for Sam and Eileen to grab fresh beers for everyone. Subjectively, feeling every tremor, twitch, and slow breath, it takes forever for Cas and Charlie to finish and withdraw from each other.

Charlie comes back first, inhaling sharply before slumping back into Jess. Cas takes a few seconds longer, coming back to awareness with a shudder. Dean hugs him tight again, watching for anything wrong.

Sam and Eileen look on from where they’ve perched on the hearth and coffee table respectively.

“Charlie, what’s up?” Sam asks, leaning forward.

She waves her hand vaguely, before twisting to kiss Jess. “Eileen and Cas called it. Whatever malevolent intentions the Laws had have burned themselves out.” She sighs before reaching over to grab a couple of beers off the coffee table. Handing one to Cas, she continues, “I _know_ bringing him in won’t hurt us. I _think_ it might burn them out on us too.”

“What do you mean?”

Charlie shakes her head and pushes herself to her feet. “Beer ain’t gonna cut it tonight. Dean, where’s your whiskey?”

“Uh. On top of the fridge.”

“Not the rotgut you keep on hand for when you can’t deal. The good shit.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean carefully shifts Cas from his lap onto the couch. “How in the seven hells… Whatever.” She follows him through the kitchen to the broom closet under the stairs, watches as he pulls a couple of boxes off the shelf and reaches into one of the drawers built into the wall. Pulling out the bottle of scotch, he looks at her until she backs off slightly. “Glasses, Charlene, we’re not drinking this out of the bottle. _And_ you’re going to tell me exactly how you knew this even existed.”

In here, he can barely hear the gentle murmurs of Jess and Eileen, Cas and Sam’s voices a deeper undercurrent.

She does one better, and throws a couple of handfuls of ice into a mixing bowl. “Your dad, he, uh, mentioned it while you were in the hospital. I wasn’t supposed to hear, he was on the phone with someone, but--” she shrugs.

Nodding, he holds the bowl while she pulls down an assortment of glasses. “And you never forgot?”

“My best friend was dying and his dad was discussing booze instead of doing something to fix it.” She smiles tightly, “I mostly just held onto the knowledge for spite. Was gonna ransack the house if you died and drink it over his grave. Sam too, if he wanted.”

“Dad didn’t die for another three years.”

She raises an eyebrow significantly. Oh. Rubbing a thumb over the seal with the imprinted twenty, he heads back to the living room. “Grandpa Campbell. Family tradition, pre-ordering a bottle for the oldest son’s coming of age.” Snorting, he breaks the wax and pulls the cork out. “Guess no one figured I’d be a fucking recessive. It was delivered a few weeks before. Samuel wanted it back, Dad refused, said he’d give it to Sam.”

They’ve rearranged while he and Charlie were in the other room, shifting the coffee table back so there’s room between it and the couch for Sam and Eileen to sprawl across the floor on a couple of throw pillows. Jess and Cas have joined them on the floor, not quite touching, but sitting against the couch.

Dean makes a production of pouring them all a couple finger’s worth, tossing a couple ice cubes in Sam and Eileen’s before passing them over. When he’s done, he leans back against the couch, wrapping his free arm around Cas's shoulders. “Okay. What’s up?”

Charlie settles between Jess’s legs and looks down at her glass. Her mouth opens and closes a couple times before she sets her tumbler down. “We fight, all the time. Have for years. Why?”

“You stole my girlfriend!” Sam snarls, “And Dean took her to the party!”

The fragile hope Dean had been holding -- maybe nearly losing Cas today was a start to fixing things with Sam -- dies.

He recoils for a split second, the sheer fury in Sam’s face enough to make him hesitate, before he’s up on his knees, pushing Cas behind him. He doesn’t bother to defend himself, Sam has never listened in the years since it happened, he won’t start now. Getting Cas to safety though, that he can do.

Deadly quiet, Jess hisses, “Not your property then, certainly not now.”

Helplessly, Dean watches them dissolve into fighting again, slowly edging Cas away from the couch and the others. So much for that, such a worthwhile thing to break out the good booze for. He does his best to not let the yelling get to him, leaning against the wall with Cas next to him.

“Dean?” Cas asks quietly.

“Welcome to the family, Cas. Where they can’t even get along long enough to go their separate ways.” Thumping his head against the wall, he reaches over for Cas's hand.

“Charlie provoked him. Why?”

“Because she can’t help it. Because he can’t stop being a butthurt sixteen year old. Because Jess sync’d with Char as soon as they met and it took Sam four years to meet Eileen. Because Eileen has never stopped resenting Char.” Taking another drink of his scotch, he frowns. “Because none of them have ever forgiven me for not being enough.” Biting his lip, he watches the other four tear into each other.

“At least you’re not alone,” Cas offers, pulling him close.

“Yeah. At least I’m not alone.” Dean gives them another couple of minutes to shout themselves hoarse before pushing himself to his feet. It’s late and the only way this is going to end is if he gives them a common target. Then he and Cas can… go crash at the shop or something, because he’s not going to expose Cas to this overnight and gods know Sam won’t move.

Picking his way over to the couch, he clears his throat, “When you’re done arguing about the past, Cas and I would like to get some sleep. Are you done?”

Charlie looks momentarily confused before her eyes widen in shock and drops onto the couch. “Fuck!” She opens her mouth a couple of times but nothing comes out. Eventually, she turns to Eileen. “You saw, right?”

Eileen nods, holding out her hand. They only link for a couple of seconds, but it’s enough to break the argument up.

Dean watches alongside Jess and Sam, but he doesn’t expect anything long term to come out of it. They’ll commune, they’ll go their separate ways, and the peace will last until the next time they’re in the same room. An endless cycle.

Slumping apart, Eileen finishes her scotch and drains Sam’s for good measure. “I thought… I thought it was just me. Moving like I did, thought the rules were just different here.”

“Wanna share with the class?” Dean asks dryly.

“Things are completely fucked,” Charlie says. “Okay. Everyone hold onto their tempers, because this -- the way we fight -- it’s not us. It’s intentional.”

Sam slowly lowers himself back onto the coffee table, hands rhythmically tightening on his knees. Jess perches on the hearth briefly before moving to sit on the floor in front of Charlie. Eileen stays where she is on the floor, but also doesn’t show any signs of losing her temper. Dean stays behind the couch, Cas behind him.

Charlie raises an eyebrow at Dean’s lack of movement but shrugs. “Cas was right. There is something malevolent in how the Laws have ingrained themselves in our minds.”

Eileen takes over for a moment. “The strictures that you have -- holding grudges long beyond what makes sense, treating Dean like he’s a second class citizen -- none of those appear back home. And I wasn’t doing it until I was listed on the rolls here.”

“But, why? It doesn’t benefit anyone to have us at each other’s throats all the time.” Sam leans forward, far enough to hold onto Eileen.

“Doesn’t it?” Cas steps from behind Dean to face the others. “Ruby was far more in control than I’ve seen any of you be. How often does that happen? Dean’s the only one I’ve seen use any magic at all.”

“And that’s all cantrips. Messages, cutting, flipping the lights.”

“Of course we haven’t done anything big, I can’t trust--” Sam breaks off. “We don’t trust each other, so none of us do anything big because we don’t have the power.”

Dean raises an eyebrow, “So wait. The four of you… you haven’t done anything in _ten years_?”

Charlie looks worried, but chokes out, “Nothing major. Kept the protections up on here and my house, the charms on Bobby’s shop.”

“I nearly died. You’re still holding that against me.” Dean can feel his temper rising, finally given something to lash out against. “You’re my best friend and Sam’s my brother and I’ve taken more shit from both of you than I ever should have, because I figured it was the price to pay for watching y’all change the world, and...” Closing his eyes, he struggles to keep from saying anything unforgivable. “Seriously? _Nothing?”_

Softly, Cas's hand skirts up his arm, landing on his shoulder and pulling Dean into his chest. Dean stays stiff -- he doesn’t want comfort, he wants to scream all the shit he’s dealt with -- but the warmth and affection pouring off Cas wear him down.

Cas's voice is a low rumble when he cuts off Jess and Charlie’s sputtering, “No. Let it go. Get to the bottom of this.” Someone sucks in a breath, preparing to argue, before Cas raises his spare hand. “Productive or not at all.”

Turning back around, Dean squeezes Cas's hand and grinds out, “What does this have to do with Cas?”

“He… burnt out… the instructions that were set to control how we react to things. I’ve not had-- I need Jess to poke at things with me. But they’re self-perpetuating. Once they’ve burned out, there’s nothing to restart them.”

“So, Cas is clear, forever?” Sam asks.

“Unless someone starts the process over again with him, as far as Eileen and I can tell.” Charlie rushes the next bit, like she’s not sure it’s wanted. “And I think he can help us burn it out too.”

Or maybe she rushed it because this is where the arguing started last time. This time though -- while everyone’s jaw clenches and Dean feels the headache forming -- no one starts searching for a distraction. Reaching up to carefully prod at his temple, Dean finally accepts that they might not need to run this time and drops heavily onto the far end of the couch.

Jess looks up from her spot on the floor and moves up to the center seat. “Headache?”

Nodding, Dean leans into Cas's hand on his shoulder. “Tension, behind my eyes.”

“Feel anything like a migraine?”

“Not yet.”

Jess nods, leaning back against Charlie. “Let me know if it gets worse. But I think it probably is actually tension. We’re throwing a lot of shit at your wards right now.”

Dean grunts. He catches Sam looking him and Cas over and shaking his head. “What? I’m here. What now?”

There’s some sort of communication done with eyebrows and significant looks that Dean’s too tired to decipher before Sam slaps his knees and stands. “Right. Cas, I’d like to formally extend an offer of membership with our coven, with the ceremony to happen in the morning, as we are all _way_ too tired to do it tonight.”

There’s a moment, before Cas responds, where Dean can feel the tension in his hand and could swear Cas is going to turn them down. He looks up to get a glimpse of Cas's face just in time to see the biggest smile he’s seen crawl across it. Giant and gummy, it spreads like sunshine throughout the room. “Only if I can stay with Dean.”

Glancing at his watch, Dean is astonished at how late it is. Bullying Sam and Eileen upstairs to their bed, he pulls the fold-away bed out of the couch and gets it made up for Charlie and Jess before grabbing Cas's hand and dragging him to bed.

It’s weird to realize that after three nights, one of them not even sharing a bed, they already have sides. Dean curls around Cas and is out before his mumbled spell turns the lights out.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry! This was supposed to go up on Thursday and it completely slipped my mind.

They’re the last ones awake in the morning, sleeping through Dean’s alarm. Cas finally wakes up to Sam’s soft drone in the next room. Blinking against the sun, Cas turns onto his side and buries his face into Dean’s neck.

He didn’t drink nearly enough last night to justify feeling this hungover.

Dean’s hand comes up to cup the back of Cas's neck, rubbing gently at the base of his skull and chuckling at Cas's groan. “C’mon, man. Time to get up.”

Cas groans again.

They shower together, trading nearly chaste kisses under the warm water. It’s tender and lazy and everything Cas's aching mind and body want.

Charlie shoves cups of coffee into their hands as soon as they emerge from the bedroom, followed by a bottle of painkillers. “Here. Drink up. We’ve got a lot to take care of today and a limited amount of time.”

He drinks his coffee and eats the stale donut she hands him, standing at the kitchen counter. He wants to ask what the rush is, but given how yesterday had turned out, maybe he’s better off not knowing. Assuming she would even give him an answer. There’s something different about her today.

A slow smile breaks across Dean’s face after a couple of minutes of watching Charlie bustle around the kitchen cleaning. That’s encouraging at least. It still catches Cas by surprise when Dean bangs his coffee cup down and sweeps Charlie into a bear hug. “Char?” The disbelief in Dean’s voice is painful, hesitant and nearly childlike.

For a brief moment, Cas can see the young man Dean once was.

Charlie turns around in Dean’s arms, beaming up at him. “Hi, Dee.”

Cas, awkwardly, stays against the far wall, sipping his coffee and trying to avoid the scene in front of him. He’s not sure why it makes him as uncomfortable as it does, but something about the joy in their voices, how quickly they’d forgotten he was here…

Dean tugs him away from his corner, wrapping his arms around Cas. Instantly, he relaxes, the sync between them filling in the missing nuances that he’d been missing while stewing in the corner. Love and affection and family, yes; but _sister_ , never partner. Pushing the inexplicable jealousy aside, Cas leans into Dean, absorbing the warmth.

“The others?” Dean asks quietly.

“Should be good,” Charlie says. “We’ll have to keep an eye on each other for a few days, but we know what to look for now.”

Dean nods beside him, more of the tension leaving his shoulders. Cas stays silent, enjoying the moment. If he’s done nothing else, he’s given Dean his family back. Which is worth _everything_.

Sam, Jess, and Eileen are already outside, doing something in the yard. Charlie looks over his shoulder, watching them pile wood into a firepit before nodding. “Normally, we’d do this in the evening. Have a party. But this is urgent.”

“I don’t understand why. I’m nothing special.”

Charlie leans into him where they’re watching out the dining room windows. “You really are, even if you don’t see it. Man, I’ve never seen anyone try to move in on a witch that fast.”

“What does that even mean?”

“A witch without a coven is pretty much a beacon. Draws all sorts of predators, including other covens, if they’re insufficiently warded.” She swallows. “Ruby isn’t even the worst one in town, just the most opportunistic. Rumor is she’s connected to Rowena somehow, but no one’s ever figured out the specifics. And getting one over on Dean is a bonus.”

“That’s not the most reassuring thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Charlie shrugs before accepting a fresh cup of coffee from Dean. “Wasn’t really trying to be.”

Handing Cas his refill, Dean wraps his arms around Cas’s waist, hooking his chin over his shoulder, watching out the window. In the backyard, Sam kindles a fire in the pit and checks Jess and Eileen’s positioning. Charlie excuses herself and goes to join them, moving a table under one of the oaks that are scattered around.

Cas turns his back on them for a moment, rotating in Dean’s hold so he can face the other man. “Everything okay?”

Dean shrugs. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

“Yeah, try again. You’re a crappy liar.”

“Only with you.” Dean sighs and buries his face in Cas's neck. “I’m fine. Just being stupid.”

“It’ll be okay.” Kissing him firmly, Cas hides his own fear and apprehension where Dean can’t see it, even through their bond or sync or whatever it’s called.

Because no matter how calm he’s managing to appear, this is freaking him out. This sounds like high school all over again, with even more life changing consequences. He’s pretty sure Charlie, Jess, Sam, and Eileen don’t mean him harm, but they’ve also spent years not meaning any harm to Dean.

The only one he completely trusts is Dean, and even that’s sudden enough that he’s not sure how much he trusts himself in trusting Dean. It’s instinctual, knowing that Dean will never hurt him on purpose. Their bond-thing helps, they can’t lie through it, but there’s lots of ways to lie while telling the truth.

Closing his eyes, Cas forces himself to relax, leaning into Dean so they can support each other.

After a few minutes, Dean drags him over to the loveseat on the porch. Pulling Cas down next to him, Dean loops a chain around his wrist, carefully twisting it around itself so it stays. “Made this to help find you yesterday. I don’t remember it really, just…” He meets Cas's eyes, holding his hand tight. “I hoped and this is what came out.”

Carefully, Cas runs a fingertip along the the chain holding the stones together. “A pendulum? And.. carnelian.” There’s a familiar buzz under the surface of the stone, the same buzz as when they were making out that first night when everything was still simple. “It’s beautiful.”

Dean shrugs, looking away. “It seemed right. It’s for you. It led us to you anyway.”

Cas intertwines their fingers, opening himself to the sync and willing Dean to do the same. The longer they spend in contact, the easier it gets. Glimpses of Dean’s mind shine through, sunlight through the sea, glassy green. He brings Dean inside, shows him the secret spots, slows down when Dean starts to feel overwhelmed.

The pendulum helps, gives him more control over what gets shared and how.

It’s only when Eileen comes to fetch him that they break apart, hands still clinging together. Cas follows her out to the yard, holding the pendulum in one hand.

 

* * *

 

There’s nothing for him to do while they bring Cas into the coven, leaving Dean to sit on the patio and watch. It’s pretty boring actually. He can feel, vaguely, the circle coming up and cutting off outside influences -- dulling his connection with Cas -- but that’s the most interesting part about it. With the circle up, it’s a silent pantomime that looks like children playacting.

Given what they know now, about how the Laws have been corrupted, maybe one day he’ll be able to be inside that circle and participate. Until then, he’s better off not torturing himself.

Moving back inside, Dean restlessly completes his morning devotions, takes the trash out, starts a load of laundry. All the boring mundane stuff he won’t want to deal with later.

Organizing his record collection, he has only a second’s warning, the alarms on the house screaming out moments before the wards fall and a woman he’s never seen before blows his front door off the hinges.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Tsking, she shakes her head and pushes her blonde hair behind her shoulder. “I wouldn’t worry about that. You’re about to have much bigger problems.”

Grabbing the poker off the fireplace, Dean swings it, aiming at her head. It never connects, gets yanked out of his hands less than halfway through his swing. The same invisible force shoves him to the ground so he’s kneeling before her.

Her nails are sharp -- even through his t-shirt -- when she drags them up his shoulder and to the back of his neck where she digs in to yank his head back. “Now, Dean. That wasn’t very nice.”

“Bite me.”

Raising an eyebrow, she looks him over. “That wasn’t the plan, but if that’s what you’re into, I’m sure we can find time.”

He jerks his head free of her grip, leaving a few hairs behind. “Get the fuck out of my house, bitch.”

She digs her nails back in, deep enough he can feel a slow trickle of blood start down the back of his neck. “No, no, no. That’s just not going to happen. You see, I want the outsider.”

“What?”

“The new witch, who just joined your worthless coven. Which means you’ve ruined the point of my visit here. So, instead--” She steps behind him, where he can’t keep an eye on her. “You and that brother of yours are going to come with me.”

Dean tries to push himself to his feet, but gets nowhere. He barely has a moment before she smacks the back of his head and a wave of something hits him with it, pushing him into darkness.

 

* * *

 

He keeps his eyes closed for a long time after he wakes up, waiting for his head to stop pounding. It never does, but after a while, he can hear someone -- Sam? -- over the ringing, muttering to themselves.

Groaning, Dean keeps his eyes closed, trying to get a handle on where they are. It doesn’t feel like his couch or bed under him, doesn’t feel familiar at all. He certainly can’t feel the wards on the house. Slitting open his eyes, the overhead light stabs into him, making his stomach lurch.

“No, no, no.” Sam’s hand is cool against Dean’s forehead, shielding him from the light and forcing his eyes closed. “Keep ‘em shut, Dean. I can’t turn it off, so you gotta keep your eyes closed for a bit.”

Dean grunts, swallowing the urge to puke. “Sammy?” It comes out half-strangled.

“Can you tell me the year, Dean?”

“2017.” There was something… but his thoughts scatter like bird seed.

“Do you know who I am?” He pulls his hand away from Dean’s forehead, apparently trusting Dean to keep his eyes closed.

“Sammy, my brother.” Stomach lurching, he leans over the edge of whatever he’s lying on. “Gonna puke.”

There’s a scraping noise in front of him and a warm hand rubbing circles on his back. “Hey, Dean. It’s alright. If you need to puke, go ahead.”

His body takes it as permission, straining forward and upending his stomach into, he hopes, a bucket or trash can. It goes on for a small eternity, every jerk setting off a fresh chain reaction in his head.

Sam pulls the can away when he’s done, settling his bulk on the bed next to Dean. “Sorry, Sammy.”

Sam breathes out a chuckle, more felt than heard, before reaching over to shield Dean’s eyes again. “S’alright. Try opening your eyes again?”

This time, Dean can get them open and keep them open, as long as he avoids looking at the bare fluorescent light on the ceiling of their cell.

And it is a cell, that’s obvious. Two bunks and a toilet, a puke-filled trash can, a single metal chair that’s been bolted to the floor; not even any books, let alone anything useful. Dean’s currently dying on the bottom bunk, curling his body around Sam’s upright form.

“What happened?”

“We were finishing up outside when you shouted. They caught me as I was coming out of the pantry, knocked me around pretty good. I don’t know how they knocked me out.”

Gingerly, Dean nods, trying to avoid moving his head too much. That is a mistake. “A… blonde? She wanted…” Trailing off, he waits for his memories to come back together. “Cas. She wanted Cas.” Sam stiffens but stays silent. “Second choice.”

“Makes sense. Once he’s claimed, whatever she wanted with him would require breaking the coven.”

“Me?”

Sam’s hand soothes down Dean’s back. “Don’t worry about it yet.”

Dean brings his hand up long enough to sign ‘yes,’ rather than risking setting his head off again. He can feel his eyes dragging closed again, falling shut against the too bright light.

By the time he wakes up again, the headache has receded to something manageable, although his vision still feels off. But it’s enough to keep his eyes open for longer than five minutes and long enough to glare at the woman who just banged the door open.

“Morning, boys.” It’s the same woman as before, standing in the doorway in biker boots and a leather jacket, blonde hair pulled back. “Now, I’m afraid I only need Dean today, so you go right on back to sleep, Sam.” She idly waves a hand in their direction and Sam falls right back over.

Deciding to risk it while she’s distracted, Dean pushes himself to his feet and darts for the still open doorway. She catches him before he’s taken more than a couple of steps, dropping him to his knees in the center of the room. “Now, Dean. Is that anyway to behave?”

“Fuck you.”

With a flick, her eyes turn black. “You know, Dean, I don’t need you whole for this. A recessive like you should have been culled years ago. That you weren’t just proves how soft-hearted the council has become.” Grabbing his chin with one hand, she squeezes tight enough to force his mouth open. “Since you weren’t, it’s up to me to make use of you. If you want to keep your tongue, keep your mouth shut.”

Frantically, he nods as best he can. Demons are myths, tales told by old drunks in the same breath as the great leviathan that hunt the deep seas and forests. But at the same time, that’s the only thing he’s ever _heard_ of that has black eyes.

She mutters something and invisible ropes drop around him, binding him tight. Another muttered word and he’s floating along beside her, watching the short corridor slide by. There’s signs on the doors he can’t read-- his eyesight too blurry to read upside down. He can make out the red exit sign only a few doors down from the room he and Sam are stuck in. If they can make it that far…

The woman drops him in a high backed chair, the ropes loosening and retying themselves so he’s lashed to the back with hands and legs tied to the legs. This room is even more empty than the last-- the chair he’s tied to, a covered table, and a jug of water.

She stares at him for a few minutes, waiting for something to happen, he guesses. Dean forces his mouth into a smirk, hoping she can’t see the bravado behind it. “Look, my head’s kinda hurting. Mind hurrying this up?”

Smiling, she crosses the room, stopping only long enough to tear his shirt collar halfway to the hem. “Meg, by the way. So you know what name you’ll be screaming later.” She runs sharp nails along across the tattoo on his chest, welts forming behind them. “And you _will_ be screaming.”

Dean contents himself with raising an eyebrow, frantically pushing his fear and worry behind the walls Cas had taught him.

Laughing, she crosses to the table, pulling the cloth off. Dean has a split second of recognizing the items there -- a tattoo machine and ink, some sort of blow torch -- before the knowledge of what they’re there for slams into him.

They’re going to break his sync.


	8. Chapter 8

Cas is using the pendulum to scry Dean’s location when Dean’s fear slams into him with all the subtlety of a brick wall. At the same time, the pendulum jerks itself from Cas's suddenly frozen grip, dragging the chain several inches towards the western side of the map.

“Cas?” Jess’s worried voice only pulls him out slightly. Not enough.

“It’s Dean. He’s…” Cas trails off before scrabbling for her hand as the fear threatens to drown him again. Quickly, he opens his mind, enough for her to feel what he’s feeling.

The fear drains away into the tunnels that form her mind, leaving only impressions behind. A corridor, a black-eyed woman, Sam.

And then it cuts off, like Dean slammed the door on it.

Opening his eyes, Cas meets Jess’s gaze for a brief second before dropping it. She squeezes his hand and pushes away from the table. “I’ll get Charlie and Eileen. You keep scrying, _find them_.”

Nodding, Cas picks up the pendulum again, rotating the map so the western section is closer to him. Might as well start there. Concentrating on the thread that connects him to Dean, he murmurs the spell again and again, moving through increasingly detailed maps.

The thread is fraying, every repetition a little harder, until the pendulum just spins aimlessly. He keeps trying, but it’s pointless.

He’s not sure how long he’s been working when Charlie comes in to check on his progress. It could be minutes or hours. The only thing he knows is Charlie carefully pulling him away from the table and dragging him over to the couch.

“Hey, Cas. C’mon back to us.” She smiles when he manages to focus on her. “What happened?”

Any other time, he’d resent being treated like a small child. But right now, the quiet soothing voice is exactly what he needs. He chokes out, “Dean’s gone,” before collapsing forward, burrowing between her and Jess.

They stiffen before Jess’ hand comes up to rub his back, her voice firming as she speaks. “Then we get him back.”

“But the sync…” He turns around to face Eileen, perched on the coffee table again.

“It’s possible to break a sync without killing someone. It’s old and dangerous magic, but it’s possible. It just hasn’t been common for the past couple hundred years.” Eileen pets the book in her lap. “Unfortunately, breaking the sync is just the beginning.”

Feeling marginally steadier, Cas moves to the other end of the couch, leaving room for Eileen to join them if she wants. He’s had Dean for less than a week, he can’t imagine how she feels. “You found something?”

Charlie leans forward to grab the book before sitting back. “I thought…”

“Everything about this town is fucked.” Eileen says flatly. “Starting with how, according to that book, there’s no reason recessives shouldn’t be able to join a coven. Anyone can, even folks with no magical ability.”

“But that just weakens the coven, if they have to protect non-magical members against attacks and--”

“You ever think about why covens were formed?” Eileen cuts Charlie off.

“For protection.”

“And most markings contain protection sigils.” Eileen rubs at the tattoo on her forearm before continuing. “Because it doesn’t do much good to protect only the magic users from demons and monsters when it’s the farmers who do the planting.”

“They need more protection than anyone else.”

“Yep.” Eileen must see Cas's confusion because she rotates her arm to show the mark, the same pentagram surrounded by flames Dean has on his chest. “They form naturally, yours will come in over the next couple of days.”

Cas nods before focusing again. “Humans being… human, someone found a way to break covens up from the outside? Using, what, syncs as crowbars?”

Eileen shrugs. “No idea, but probably. Looks like at least two syncs have to be broken before the coven can be.”

“Dean and Cas, Sam and you.” Jess says quietly. “Probably broke Dean’s first because he’s the outlier.”

“He’s not also protected by the coven bond.” Charlie says, looking up from the book. “We need to get them out of there.”

“Wait.” Jess cuts everyone off before they start to move. “What are we going to do about the black-eyed bitch who took them?”

Charlie and Eileen stare at her. “What?”

“Cas, tell them.”

“Before the sync cut out, I was able to see some things Dean was seeing. The woman who took him, the blonde? Has black eyes.” He watches as Eileen and Charlie’s eyes widen. “What?”

“Demons.” Charlie hisses. “Didn’t think they were real.”

Cas raises an eyebrow. “Magic straight out of Lord of the Rings is real, but demons aren’t?”

“Lord of the Rings is historical fiction, not real. Orcs and halflings are extinct. Vampires are real, and werewolves. Demons are myths.”

“If you’re willing to bet Sam and Dean’s lives on that, go ahead. I’ve got things narrowed down to about a two block radius. If not…” he trails off.

They all move upstairs, where Dean keeps the research books. It’s cramped up there, clearly a converted attic with plain walls that have never been painted. Charlie catches him looking as they pass through a room that has no clear purpose, it’s just been walled off from the rest of the house for some reason.

“Dean comes up here and messes around sometimes, whenever he needs a big project to work on.”

Cas nods, ignoring the urge to poke around. He can do that later, when Dean’s home safe.

The library is set up for one person, maybe two in a pinch. A day bed sits along one wall, covered in throw pillows, with an armchair catty-corner, nestled between a few overloaded bookshelves. The shelves themselves are only loosely organized -- fiction on one shelf, non-fiction the next, reference on a third -- but Cas is certain that there’s some thought there.

They’re at it for less than an hour before Cas realizes that he already has a spell for this. “I’m an idiot.” He darts downstairs to grab the book he brought with him, the one that started all this. Hell, the spell to bring Dean to him already worked once, maybe it’ll work again to bring Dean home safely. Then Eileen can perform it to get Sam out and…

He stumbles to a stop outside of Dean’s room, twinges of _something_ twisting uncomfortably through his gut. He leans against the doorframe, weathering a particularly enthusiastic writhe, before grabbing his backpack with his books and hightailing it back upstairs.

Gut twisting again, he wonders if maybe he isn’t about to come down with food poisoning -- the last time his guts felt like this, he’d been laid up for three days after a single trip through a brunch buffet -- but he pushes it aside. He can be sick later. Right now, they have to get Dean and Sam back.

The book falls open to the original spell. “This, this is what I used to bring Dean to me. Can we use it to bring him here? Sam too?”

Eileen reaches for the book, eyes flickering over the pages and widening. “No, it’s…” she moves her hands helplessly before grabbing a notebook. “You used this? No wonder you sync’d up. But it won’t for this.”

Nodding, Charlie and Jess return to flipping through the books in their laps. Reaching over, Cas flips forward a few pages to _Dispelling Evil Spirits_. “It never really made my apartment feel better, but if the things that work are from this universe…”

“There’s a solid chance, yeah.” Eileen bends back over the book, reading intently before looking up. “This should work. And we don’t even need anything for it. Just the spell.”

Cas pushes himself to his knees before collapsing back down. “I know we’re in a hurry, but I… god, can I get some ginger tea or something? Feel like I’m gonna puke.”

Alarmed, Jess reaches over and feels his forehead, “Shit, I thought we’d have more time. Short version, you’re not sick -- well, not sick like _that_ \-- just feeling the loss of your and Dean’s sync. It’s mostly psychosomatic.”

“So suck it up?”

“Suck it up.” She shoots him a grin that fails as soon as she actually looks at him.

Wrinkling his nose, Cas leads the way back downstairs and to the kitchen. “Alright. Let’s get ready then.”

 

* * *

 

Meg only pulls the tattoo machine away from his skin when he’s in danger of puking on her, a momentary respite from the pain tearing at his soul.

Dean doesn’t even know what she’s doing now. The first hour or so hadn’t been so bad -- he’s had tattoos before -- but since she switched inks…

Another line of fire gets drawn across his collarbone, dragging him back to the room. Meg smirks across from him, dipping a finger in rubbing alcohol and dragging the nail along the line. At this point, it has to be pain that she’s after. There’s nothing magical about what she’s doing.

He chokes out, “Why?” every so often, but she never responds.

Eventually, he retreats, abandons his body to the pain and curls inward. There’s a brief moment when he thinks she followed him, but that’s not possible. He shores up his defenses anyway. Until a few hours ago, demons weren’t real either. He’s not going to take any chances.

He loses track of time, isn’t sure when the pain becomes only the headache from his concussion. Opening his eyes, Dean finds himself back in the other room.

It’s dark, Sam snoring softly on the bunk above him. Carefully, he stands up, wavering when his knees take a bit to catch up, and pokes Sam awake. “Sam, wake up. We need to go.”

“Dean? How are you moving?” Dean can hear Sam swallow in the dark. “I wasn’t even sure you were going to wake up, let alone move.”

Reaching over to grab Sam’s wrist with his free hand, Dean mutters a cantrip to create a nightlight, just enough light that he and Sam can see each other. He’s used it hundreds of times, one of the earliest and only spells he mastered, and it’s always provided a dim blue glow, fading over fifteen minutes or so.

This time, it bursts out of him, bright enough he has to shield his eyes. It’s brighter than anything Dean’s ever been able to create, a summer afternoon’s sunlight in a windowless box.

Sam frantically whispers the counter-charm, burying his face in the crook of his elbow until the light fades. “Dean, what the fuck was that?”

Looking up, Dean shakes his head. “I… that was the same night light spell I’ve used my entire life.” He looks up in time to watch Sam do the same cantrip, familiar blue light spilling out from some unseen source. “What the fuck, dude?”

Sam cocks his head, “I have no idea.”

Dean nods, refocusing on the door that’s between them and freedom. “Think we can get out of here with both of us on our feet?”

Sam nods, rolling off the bunk. “Did you see anything when she took you?”

“Not much. Corridor, couple doors leading off it -- couldn’t read the signs, my vision was still kinda blurry -- but there was a emergency exit sign only a few doors away.”

Sam stretches and inhales before turning to face the door. “Ready? Alright then.”

The blast Sam aims out the door startles Dean, and he was expecting it. The guards on the other side are blindsided.

They are well-trained through, Dean has to give them that. One of them immediately pulls the alarm while the other moves in to deal with them.

This part they’ve never had an issue with. Even when things were at their worst between them, he and Sam always knew how to work together in a fight.

The guy in the doorway doesn’t stand a chance. They rush him, Dean taking his legs while Sam’s knuckles connect with his jaw. He goes down hard, knees buckling out from under him, and hits the floor with the grace of a sack of potatoes.

It’s quick and dirty, but not fast enough.

Before they can regain their momentum, five or six reinforcements pour into the narrow corridor, all intent on stopping them. Dean sucks in a breath, takes stock. He’s not sure how they’re going to get through this. But they have to try.

Sam barrels ahead.

The first guy goes down like a chump, crumpling when Sam buries a sucker-punch in his gut. Dean grabs the guy next to him, drives a kick into his knee and drags him into a headlock. Before he can get a good grip though, someone behind him lands a solid blow to his kidneys.

Gasping, Dean lets go, pushing away from both. He scrambles, trying to get his back to the wall, or anything solid.

“Sammy!”

“Little busy, Dean,” Sam calls back from where he’s squared off with a guy almost as big as he is.

Dean winces and turns to face his two attackers. “Guess it’s just us then, fellas.”

There’s no time to play nice. He goes on offense immediately, all short jabs, and shots intended to blind or maim. Anything to get his attackers off him.

It takes too long. Everything is taking too long. Dean lets a flurry of blows, enough to drive his attackers off for a second or two, he shouts, “Sam! Eyes!” and hopes he gets the message.

The cantrip flows off his fingers, twists into knots and then…

The blue-white light sprays forth, blinding as a magnesium flare.

Dean punches the guys in front of him in the neck. It doesn’t drop them, but now they’re choking and blind. Good enough.

And then the last door opens. The one where Meg had taken him.

Sam’s turned away, securing a door. He doesn’t see her, doesn’t see the knife she has…

Dean doesn’t even think about it. He jumps between them as she throws the knife.

 

* * *

 

The pain comes so suddenly that Cas doesn’t even have a chance to cry out-- sudden pain knifing through him, driving the breath from his body. He leans against the bricks of the building they’re breaking into, waving Charlie on ahead when she pauses to check on him.

“Cas?” He can barely hear Jess over the pounding of his heart.

Shaking his head, he manages to remember the signs for ‘chest’ and ‘hurt,’ signing them frantically in the near dark, choking on nothing.

“Hey, focus on me. Your chest hurts? Like a heart attack?”

Frantically nodding, Cas gasps for air.

“Alright then. Here, breathe with me.” Slowly, she breathes in for a count of five, holds it for a moment, then breathes out over a count of five. She leads him through it several times before sitting back and letting him take the lead.

The fragile confidence -- he can be trusted to breathe on his own even though his chest still feels like something is stabbing him -- almost makes him lose count but Jess tightens her grip when his breath stutters.

“It’s okay, Cas, not a heart attack. Have you ever had a panic attack before?”

Nodding, he rubs his breast bone with his free hand. “Not like this though.” Cas takes another deep breath, lets it go. She’s probably right, and it does feel more localized now, a line running across his chest and into his armpit. More psychosomatic bullshit probably, aided by the panic attack. The nausea had faded after a while, hopefully this will too.

He takes another couple of moments, trying to get the pain under control, before pushing himself fully upright. “Let’s catch up.”

“What? No. You should stay out here.”

“Jess, this is the last building Dean could be in. I’m coming.” Reaching into his pocket, he rewraps the pendulum around his wrist, taking comfort in the warmth of the stone and chain.

Charlie and Eileen are at the door a few feet away, bent over the lock, trying to force it open without making a huge amount of noise on the other side.

Leaning closer, they can hear the alarm blaring on the other side. Charlie shoves a crowbar into the lock and slams it with the hammer they brought for this purpose. The lock pops off, landing with a clank on the cement while the door creaks open.

The red flashing emergency lights almost make what he sees look normal. A woman in black stands with her back to them, watching a screaming shape further down the hall.

Then what he’s staring at snaps into focus-- Sam, cradling Dean’s crumpled body, screams barely audible over the alarms. Other bodies litter the corridor behind him, starting to stir.

Cas doesn’t stop to think, or even to process. Later, he’s not sure he could have.

He charges in, screaming out his fear and frustration from the last several days. He crashes into the woman, tackling her and sending them both sliding down the corridor. He doesn’t wait for them to skid to a stop. He grabs her hair before she can react and slams her face into the tile floor a couple times before leaning back.

He’s not sure she’s unconscious, or -- given that she’s a demon -- if she can even be knocked out using normal means. But it makes him feel better. They can’t kill her, they need to know if the Council is involved with this, but…

Charlie is suddenly next to him, a restraining hand on his arm. “Hey, Cas. It’s alright. Let’s get her bound and then we’ll go check on Dean, okay?” Gently, she reaches over and touches his arm, grounding him back to the here and now. “Do you remember the binding spell?”

Cas nods, closing his eyes against the strobing lights. Shifting his weight, he leans forward and drops his hand between the demon’s shoulder blades, slowly speaking the spell aloud.

She struggles for a moment before falling still again.

Regardless of how much he wants to go to Dean, Cas forces himself to think of their safety first. The six guys that litter the hallway are beginning to stir, so Cas drags them into one of the rooms. It’s not a huge space, but it’s got a toilet and a lock, it’ll do until they figure out what to do with them.

Jess is still hunched next to Dean, but Eileen has moved to stand over the blonde woman, a booted foot pinning her to the ground, despite the bindings. Carefully, Cas crouches next to Dean, reaching for his free hand.

“Dean, are you…”

“I’m gonna be just fine, Cas.” Despite the effort, Dean’s clearly gritting his teeth, grimacing around the pain. “Hurts like a mother, but nothing vital got hit.”

Jess looks up from where she’s sitting. “You fucking idiot. Do you have any idea how close--” Breaking off, she looks back down to where her hands are covered in blood. “I can’t--”

Charlie must sense something is amiss, because she abandons the exterior door and leads Jess away. “Hey, it’s alright. We just need to get him patched up enough so we can move.”

Cas nudges Sam out of the way, taking his spot at Dean’s head. “Go check on Eileen. We need to get moving.”

Stripping off his jacket and t-shirt, Cas folds the shirt into a pad, carefully tying Dean’s overshirt around to keep things in place. He tries not to touch the scratches that litter Dean’s body, but they’re everywhere, even over his tattoo.

The door beside them -- one that Cas had assumed was another empty room -- breaks open, revealing a crowded corridor. Spilling over the threshold before Cas can even stand, they spread out down the hallway, keeping any of them from being able to reach the others.

Sam stares them down, waiting for someone else to make the first move. There’s a brief moment when Cas thinks that maybe, just maybe, they’ll be able to get out of this without more fighting.

Goon A tilts his head to the side, “Give us our queen and we’ll spare your lives. For the moment anyway.”

Sam looks blank for a moment before glancing down to the demon at his feet. “That’s… not gonna happen. She’s a demon, you know that right?”

As one, every unfriendly pair of eyes flick black. Crap.

Their spokesperson smiles slowly, mouth wide to show teeth that have been sharpened. “Better demon than human.” Flicking his hand, he sends Sam crashing down the hallway, away from Eileen and their captive. A second flick and Eileen goes bouncing the other direction, towards Jess and Charlie at their exit.

Cas can’t wait any longer, not when there’s every chance that he and Dean will be sent flying next. Closing his eyes, he grips Dean’s shoulder with one hand and the pendulum in the other, desperately trying to recall the spell they’d found earlier.

He starts quietly, sing-song’d syllables he doesn’t remember the meaning of, but it grows louder as he gets further into it, developing into a chant by the end. He feels like one of the adults on Charlie Brown -- random nonsense white noise -- but within a breath of finishing, two clouds of black smoke tear themselves away from their hosts, pulled into the floor and leaving burn marks behind, while their bodies drop to the ground.

Encouraged, he does it again, voice steadier this time, Jess and Charlie joining in about half way through. More smoke outs and bodies dropping to the floor.

The demons start fighting back before Cas finishes the second round of exorcisms. He has time to rush the last half stanza before the demon closest to him and Dean figures out what’s happening and turns around.

Cas isn’t much of fighter -- he’s always avoided them, defusing conflicts when he can and running when he can’t -- but a punch to the junk when rising from a crouch is enough to make anyone pause, even demons. The demon backs off enough Cas can get to his feet at least.

Ducking away from a punch aimed at his head, Cas tries to lead the demon away from Dean, towards the cluster that’s hovering over the blonde. It’s not a good plan, but it’s better than standing there, waiting for them to all smoke out.

He can’t tell what anyone else is doing. The demonic smoke fills the air regularly as Charlie and Jess separate and begin chanting independently of each other, obscuring what little light the red emergency flashers provide.

He’s in the air for an instant, barely long enough to comprehend what is happening, before crashing into the wall next to Dean.

“Cas!”

Shaking himself, he puts a hand on Dean’s thigh before starting to push himself up. There’s still demons here, he needs to keep them away--

Dean wraps a hand around his and squeezes, yelling “Shut your eyes!” over the noise. A few words Cas can’t make out and then light fills the hallway.

Even slamming his eyes closed, it feels like he’s looking into the sun. It takes a few moments for Cas's eyes to clear enough for him to see what’s going on, although the lack of fighting is reassuring.

Surveying the room, Sam appears to be the only one unaffected, pushing the body of a demon off his legs. Eileen looks dazed, but is still moving, while Charlie and Jess are knocked out over by the door. Black scorch marks litter the floor, surrounding the limp bodies.

Cas struggles to his feet, lifting Dean to his. “What the hell was that?”

Dean winces, but shakes his head. “Not… not right now. When we’re home.”

Cas nods, wrapping an arm around Dean’s waist. “The car’s not far away.”

“Not yet.”

“Dean, we need to leave.”

“Her first,” Dean nods towards the blonde.

Against his better judgment, Cas helps Dean to Sam and Eileen, standing like some weird tribunal. Dean’s request that he make himself scarce doesn’t need to be spoken.

(It’s weird, now that they’re in the same room again, it doesn’t feel like their bond is broken at all, despite what Jess and Eileen both said earlier and the gaping emptiness he felt. Now it’s a general hum to the back of his brain, peaking and valleying with his distance to Dean, whether or not they’re touching.)

He shakes himself free of the thought, pushing it aside to be dealt with later. Right now, he needs to get Charlie and Jess moving.

 

* * *

 

Dean watches Cas pick his way past the unconscious and dead bodies that litter the floor. He needs to finish this before they get out of here, and that includes keeping Cas far away from Meg.

Bracing himself, Dean kneels to turn her over. She flops without much trouble, even though the effort makes his chest burn.

Eileen catches his attention before he can undo the bindings, signing “Be careful!” with as much emphasis as she can.

Nodding, Dean leans back for a moment, looking around for a weapon. There aren’t any he can see, but there has to be something. “Sam, can you find that knife she had?”

“Yeah, I see it. Stay put.” He’s gone and back in seconds, handing Dean the knife hilt first before moving to stand across from him, so they have her surrounded.

Ignoring Meg for a moment, he checks the knife over. Aside from some sigils engraved into the blade, it doesn’t look very special -- ceremonial only with a jagged edge like that -- but given the way her eyes widen when she sees it, there’s something special about it.

He waits for Sam to lean over and partially undo the bindings, enough that she can answer questions. Dean sets it aside, well out of her reach, even if she manages to get unbound. “Asking why won’t get us anywhere. So instead, I’m going to ask who else.”

Meg glares up at him, fury burning deep. “How long has the current Council been in power, Dean? Your lifetime? Your father’s? It was an experiment, has been for years. And it’s going _great_.”

Slamming his hand over her mouth, Dean looks up. Charlie, Jess, and Sam are looking at him wide-eyed. “They’re all demons?” He knew they didn’t like him, didn’t like any of them, but this is--

This is beyond them not liking him because he’s a recessive. Or because they don’t have an older mentor in their coven. This is deliberate effort to manipulate an entire society to give them power.

Meg’s eyes light up maliciously, trying to say something behind his hand.

Dean ignores her, trying to work through the possibilities. There’s too many. Reaching behind him, he grabs the knife and sends out a brief prayer. He plunges the blade into her chest, watches orange lights flash underneath her skin before she slumps lifelessly to the floor.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean heads directly for the shower once they’re home, ignoring the mess in the living room. He can’t deal with that right now, he hurts too much. He’s far more interested in washing the blood and dirt off, getting the cut on his chest wrapped up.

Cas follows him into the bedroom, strangely silent, pushing the door closed behind them and staring blankly while Dean strips. “Cas, you okay?”

Startled, Cas looks up. “I just… It doesn’t feel any different with you here. I thought it would.”

“What?”

“The sync-bond thing.” Cas waves a hand vaguely. “I thought once it was broken, that would be it. But it doesn’t feel any different.”

“Do you… want it broken?” Dean pauses before settling on the bed next to Cas.

“No! The way Jess and Eileen were talking through…” He trails off. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Reaching out, Dean takes his hand, relaxing against him. Cas is right, it doesn’t feel any different. He has no idea how they managed it, but he’s not going to look too closely.

Carefully, he leans over to kiss Cas's cheek. “C’mon. Let’s get cleaned up and then we’ll deal with it. You’re not imagining things, but I--” his voice, horrifyingly, breaks. “You’re still here. When I need you. It’s enough.”

Cas's smile is blinding, joy combining with relief.

They kiss a bit, but mostly focus on getting clean. Sync or no, they’re actually building something here and he doesn’t want to fuck that up. They take a long time, relishing in each other’s closeness.

Sam’s the only one waiting for them when they emerge, sprawled out on the couch. “It’s about time you two emerged. I’m about to fall asleep.”

“Where’s everyone else?” Dean flops over the back of the couch, stretching out along one side. Cas walks around the end before settling between them, near their feet.

“Jess and Charlie went home. Eileen’s upstairs. She and I already went over the warding for here, fixed the places where it’d been weakened.”

“What time is it anyway?” Dean shakes his head. He’s completely wiped, even if he’s not sure he’ll be able to get any sleep tonight.

“After two.” Sam says sheepishly. “Charlie and Jess are contacting the other covens in town that we’re on good terms with. Hopefully, a few of them will be willing to listen.”

“What do you think the chances are?”

Sam shrugs, exhaustion plain in his shoulders. “If enough believe us, we won’t have any problems. But--”

“But no one’s going to believe a recessive,” Dean says flatly, ignoring the squeeze of Cas's hand.

“Some will. The younger ones, the ones we grew up with. The older groups, I don’t know. They’ve run this town for so long…”

“Yeah.” Dean sighs, before nudging Sam with his foot. “Go to bed, bitch. We’ll figure it out in the morning.”

Sam nods, moving off towards the back of the house. “Jerk.”

Cas is already dozing on the couch, slowly tilting over towards Dean. Quietly, Dean pushes himself to his feet, flipping the stereo on and turning the volume down low. It takes him a few moments to find an album that fits his mood, ending up with one of his mom’s favorites.

Crawling back onto the couch, Dean wraps an arm around Cas, silently singing along until he too falls asleep.

 

* * *

 

Dean wakes them both up in the morning, rolling off the couch and onto the floor. It’s early, maybe four hours after they’d passed out. Reaching down, Cas flops his hand around in a vain attempt to drag Dean back up.

A hand pushes him away before he can identify what he’s patting. “Dammit, Cas. That’s my eye. Stop it.”

Cas relaxes back into the couch for a moment before leaning over the edge. Dean smiles up at him sleepily, reaching up to hold Cas's dangling hand. “Morning, sunshine.”

“Hello, Dean.” Gently, he pulls Dean back up onto the couch, wrapping an arm around him to keep him from falling back off. “Any chance you’ll let me go back to sleep?”

Dean kisses him. “I’m up. But I won’t stop you.”

Cas heaves a sigh, squeezing tighter before letting Dean go. “If we’re up, we’re up. Get the coffee going? Then I want to take a look at your chest.”

Dean makes a controlled slide back to the floor. “Coffee, sure.” Waggling his eyebrows, he smirks, “And I’m always willing to get naked for you.”

Cas shakes his head and points Dean towards the kitchen. “Coffee first. Necking later.” There’s a pulse of _something_ that reverberates between them, but Cas ignores it. Somehow their bond is intact again and he has no interest in poking at it too hard. Later, he’ll start the research, but right now? It gets ignored.

He waits until Dean is thoroughly distracted by coffee before slipping into the altar room. Dean’s gods are not his, his practices different from Cas's. But he felt them the other day, feels echos of them in the scrying pendulum Dean made. They made it this far because of them and it’s rude to not acknowledge that.

He doesn’t have anything as an offering, but somehow he’s certain that will be ok. The forms surely aren’t as important as the emotion. Lighting a candle and a stick of incense, Cas settles into the same meditation he does at home, sending his appreciation into the universe in hopes that the appropriate entity will receive it.

Dean’s hand on his arm pulls him back out. “Sorry, Sunshine. But coffee’s ready.”

It takes a long moment for Dean’s words to actually mean something. “How long…”

Dean pushes a coffee mug into his hands. “Long enough for me to notice, but not long enough to worry.” He shrugs, not quite masking the concern. “I wouldn’t have stepped in, but you wanted--”

Cas reaches up, runs a finger along Dean’s cheek before dropping back down. “No, I should have asked. I wasn’t thinking.”

“You’re fine, Cas. Whatever it is between us, it’s pretty clear that we’re long term. That’s why I introduced you in the first place.” Turning, Dean snags another meditation pillow out of the corner and drops down onto it. “You mind if I--”

“What? Of course. Should I--” Cas gestures to the door, half turning to get up without spilling his coffee. He’s appalled at how awkward this is. This is long term, Dean _just_ said so, how on earth --?

Dean’s hand shoots out, landing on his thigh before Cas can get very far. “Stay. If you want.”

Nodding, Cas settles back down and sips his coffee while Dean lights a couple more candles. Just as before, the feeling of electricity slowly builds as Dean goes through his morning ritual, lighting some incense, pouring a bit of coffee into a bowl, drawing some sticks out of a cup. It stops just short of overwhelming, holding there for a brief second before it releases.

Dean looks more settled when he’s done, leaning over to pick up his coffee. “Did that feel okay?”

“Even if it didn’t, I’d deal.” Cas glances over before taking Dean’s hand. “Now, I’d like to take a look at what that bitch did to you.” He hadn’t bothered last night beyond making sure needed stitches and bandaging it up.

Cas refills their coffee while Dean finds the first aid kit and strips off his shirt at the dining room table.

They fall silent, Cas stares at the lines that mark Dean’s torso, watches them fade. By tomorrow, they’ll be gone. “Where did she start?”

Dean brushes fingertips across the sunburst tattoo just under his collarbone. “Here. I don’t know why, it’s fake.”

Cas raises an eyebrow. “Fake or mundane?”

“Does it matter? I was half drunk and angry, had been out of the hospital for less than two days.”

“Mundane then.” Cas nods before pulling out the alcohol and a pad of gauze. “One of the things we found yesterday, trying to figure out how to get you back. I didn’t follow all of it, but the first purpose of a coven was to protect their own, even the non-magic users.”

“So, I, what? Marked myself as belonging to the coven on accident?”

Cas shrugs, “You linked yourself to them somehow. That’s why she started there: breaking syncs allows a weak point in the coven.”

“Why didn’t it work?”

“I’m sure one of the others will know better than me. But…” Cas swipes the alcohol pad along the cut. Watching the skin form goosebumps as the alcohol evaporates, he counts at least four places where the cut breaks the spell lines Meg had made. “She broke her own spell when that knife hit you.” Cas huffs. “All that bullshit and she undid it herself.” He doesn’t realize that he’s started crying until Dean eases the gauze out of his hands, pulling him close.

“Cas?”

“I’m fine.” He mumbles into Dean’s neck, wrapping his arms around him. “I don’t… I’ll be fine.” They stay silent while Cas pulls himself back together. It’s done, the spell broken, and Meg dead.

Sam clears his throat from the kitchen, leaning through the pass-through. “You guys need anything while I’m in here?”

Dean recovers before Cas can. “More coffee.”

Sam nods before disappearing again, coming through the pantry a few moments later to fill their coffee mugs. Smirking, he gestures towards Dean’s bare chest. “I’m sure Jess and Eileen won’t mind the show, but I do. Put your shirt on, I’m eating.”

Dean rolls his eyes before leaning over to kiss Cas. “We all know I’m the better looking brother.”

“So you’ve said, repeatedly. Not sure the rest of the world agrees, but whatever.” Sam falls silent as they pack up the first aid kit. “You guys know what you’re going to tell the other covens?”

“Is there any reason we can’t just tell them the truth?” Cas asks.

Sam shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“They won’t listen to me.” Dean says quietly. “The way things have been, I’m worse than useless.”

“Why are we even bothering?” Cas looks up from the tracing the woodgrain of the table. “If no one’s going to believe us, why waste time trying to get anyone else to back us?”

Dean sucks in a breath and leans back in his chair. “So kill the entire Council and hope for the best?”

“Or incapacitate them until we can find more evidence.” Cas shrugs. “If anyone else has ever noticed, they didn’t do anything about it. You deserve better than this, Dean.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Some sort of second class citizen? That’s unfair and isn’t going to change unless we force it.”

“So you’re thinking, what? Get rid of the demons, ask for forgiveness later?”

“Ditch the demons, break the control inherent in the Laws. Both need to be done, and I’m guessing the second will be a lot easier after the first.”

Sam and Dean look appalled.

Cas pushes away from the table. “Nevermind. It’s not my place, I’m not from around here. Whatever you decide. Just let me know.”

It’s a retreat and he knows it, grabbing the book with the history of covens off the side table before moving to the screened-in porch at the back of the house. He shouldn’t have said anything, let them do whatever without his input. It’s not going to get him anywhere, Dean’s just going to think he’s a bloodthirsty monster and--

Dean sinks down on the loveseat next to him, pulling the book out of his lap and dropping it on the floor. “Stop that. Talk to me.”

“What?”

“I don’t think you’re… whatever it is you think.” Cas looks over at him. “You’re right about the Council. I know it, Sam knows it.”

“Then why bother with the covens?”

“If the covens don’t back us, or if we can’t prove the Council is compromised, then taking down the Council will be a death sentence. The Council is powerful, and if enough covens back them--”

Eileen knocks on the door jamb, exasperation written across her face. Her hands move faster than Cas can keep up with, but he catches Charlie and Jess’s names and meeting. Eileen whirls around and heads further into the house.

Dean inhales deeply. “Charlie and Jess are waiting for us at Bobby’s. The other covens are going to meet us there, since it’s neutral territory, technically.”

“She’s not mad?”

“Nah, just not a morning person.” Dean wraps an arm around him. “I know we’ve mostly dealt with my bullshit. When you want to talk about yours, I’ll listen.”

Cas smiles faintly, leaning into Dean. “Nothing to this level. You already took care of the worst parts. ”

Dean watches him intently before nodding. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

Forcing himself to nod, Cas pushes himself to his feet, grabbing the book off the floor as he goes. “C’mon. We should get dressed.”

He doesn’t want to think about meeting the other covens, going through the thing with Ruby again, dealing with that much hatred aimed at him.

He’s useless -- native talent or not, he’s still a stranger who has no idea what he’s doing -- and Dean’s lack of social standing makes him angry enough he’s not sure he can keep his head. Sam can try to make it sound easy, but Cas knows how this sort of thing works.

Even in a different world, small towns are small towns. Someone will take issue not with what they’re saying, but that fifteen years ago the boy they liked didn’t like them back. Or dated their sister. Or was the school quarterback. Small towns, small histories.

Pushing it away, Cas pulls on jeans and his last clean t-shirt before turning around to find Dean staring at him. “What?”

“Nothing, just--” he breaks off, reaching towards him. “Did your tattoo change? Didn’t think that was possible with mundane ink.”

Puzzled, Cas lifts his shirt so he can see his tattoo. The curve of his ribs makes it hard to see the exact design, but it’s definitely not the Enochian he got years ago, or not only that. “No. It’s… not supposed to do that.”

The mirror in the bathroom is spotted with water and age and meant for shaving. It’s hard to get a good angle so he can see, but Dean’s right. It has changed. Tying into the central sigil is the same sunburst design that Dean has.

Dean wraps an arm around him, softly rubbing his fingers over the new addition. “You’re part of them now, babe. Not forever, not if you don’t want to be, but…”

Turning, Cas wraps his arms around Dean, leaning down to kiss his tattoo before kissing him. “Don’t want to leave you, and you’ll never leave them. I’m here forever.”

Dean’s arms tighten around him for a long moment before releasing him. “Alright, let’s get dressed, get this done.”


	10. Chapter 10

Dean backs Baby into a spot near the entrance, where it’ll be nearly impossible to block them in. He takes several deep breaths once they’re parked, trying to get his nerves under control. Cas already looks like he’s going to bolt.

“Why are you so worried about this?” Cas asks from beside him, watching him measure the distance between the car and the door to the shop.

Shrugging, Dean pushes open the door and climbs out, waving at Charlie pacing by the office. “They might not believe us. Or some of them might be working with the Council. Or our utter lack of proof will bite us in the ass.” Dean shakes his head. “Screw it. Everything’ll be fine.”

Cas doesn’t look convinced. Dean isn’t either.

Dean doesn’t know how many covens were invited, hasn’t bothered to keep up with the local politics beyond what’s necessary, but they’ve already got a good-sized turnout. Seven covens at least. Even at only a couple of representatives apiece, it’s still a lot of people.

Eventually, they settle into the breakroom at the back of the shop. It isn’t meant to hold a group this size but they make it work, leaning against walls or sitting on the floor.

Dean doesn’t want to go in before he has to -- inspiring speeches are Sam’s thing -- so he hangs back in the hallway, standing outside with Cas, leaning into each other and avoiding everything else.

Jess waves at him as she puts up a couple of privacy spells, making sure they can’t be overheard. By the time she’s done, any noise that spills into the hall is muffled and blurred into incomprehensibility. He can’t even judge volume or tone.

After a few minutes, Dean admits defeat and tucks himself into Cas's arms, enjoying the radiating warmth. He’s not sure if Cas knows that a good portion of his work at keeping them both calm is being undone by the anxiety that’s pouring off of him through their bond, but the fact that he’s willing to even try…

It’s more than just about anyone else has ever done for him.

Eileen is worried when she beckons them back to that end of the hallway, Dean can see it in her eyes. She waves them into the room without saying anything, which doesn’t bode well, but he can handle it.

His resolve lasts for about thirty seconds. Even the folks who are firmly on his side don’t feel like it when they’re all staring at him. Inhaling, he stares back, waiting for someone to break the silence.

Benny, thankfully, steps up to bat first. “Dee, brother, you’d best start at the beginning.”

“Why?” One of the nerdy looking guys Dean doesn’t recognize cuts in. He must be one of Charlie’s friends from work or something, even though he could have sworn he at least recognized all of them. “Let’s just take care of things.”

“Ed, some of us don’t believe recessives’ stories untold.” Walt cuts in dryly. “Particularly not recessives with a history of problems.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “‘Those ‘problems,’ Walt, sucked enough without grown ass men trying to hunt me down.” He wants to grab Cas's hand, but doesn’t dare. Not when he’s under attack for not being strong enough.

“We were hunting you down because you were interfering with the natural order of things.”

“Shut up, Walt.” Jesse says. “Dean’s got at least as much a right to speak as you.” He pauses for a moment, watching Dean. “Possibly more so.”

“Look, I’d be more than happy to listen to an alternative explanation.” Dean relaxes with the show of support. He starts ticking things off on his fingers. “Eyes that flick black, strong enough to fling me into a wall, black smoke pouring out of eyes and mouths when the correct spell is recited. Know of anything else it could be? I’ll wait.” He leans against the wall.

Suddenly, everyone is completely focused on him.

“Say what?” Max Miller asks.

“I _know_ I sound like I’m crazy. But swear to whatever deity you want, I am not making this up.”

“He’s not,” Cas chimes in from next to him. “Fairy tales are based in something, and this one…” He trails off, clearly uncertain what to say next.

“Who in the seven hells are you anyway?” Christian demands. “Never seen you before in my life.”

Dean shrugs when Cas looks over. They’re going to figure it out eventually regardless, it’s up to Cas when he wants to reveal that.

Sam steps in before Cas can say anything. “He’s ours, claimed and bound. So it doesn’t matter where he came from.”

“Bound?” Cas mutters next to him, ignoring the brewing argument.

Dean waits for Christian and Sam to get into it before whispering, “Coven bonds. It’s like family.”

“Ruby didn’t feel like family.”

“Yeah, well, Ruby wasn’t--”

“Dean,” Sam hisses.

He turns to face Sam, feigning cockiness he doesn’t quite feel. “Oh, the annual Winchester-Campbell pissfest is over already?”

“Seriously?”

“What, Sam? Everyone knows exactly what that was.” Dean shakes his head, dropping a hand down grab Cas's. “Look, we’ve got a demon problem in town and it is centered on the Council.”

“Or you could just drop that bomb,” Sam sighs. “Dammit.”

The room erupts into noise, shouting at each other and at Dean.

A shrill whistle shatters the air, drowning out everyone else. Once the room has fallen silent, Charlie steps forward. “Everyone shove it. Time to get real. There hasn’t been a new representative since Bela. And I checked, she looks the same now as she did then. No one ages like that, or maybe it would be better to say that no one _doesn’t_ age like that.”

“If you don’t want to take Dean at his word, fine.” Jess cuts in. “But I saw black eyes and smoke too. So did Sam, and Eileen. We can sit around debating this or we can do something about it.”

Dean is utterly unsurprised to see Christian, Gwen, Walt, and Roy push back from their seats at the table and walk out the door. At the same time, only losing two covens out of the lot isn’t bad.

“Don’t know what sort of thing you’re pulling here, Winchester.” Walt sneers as they file by. “But this is fucking dangerous and will bring the whole system down.”

“Good,” Cas spits. “The system needs an overhaul if this is how it treats its people.”

Dean squeezes his hand before looking away. They were never going to keep those covens. Not with as old and mired in tradition as they are. He’s surprised Jess bothered to invite them and that they showed up at all. But now they need to move fast, before one of them goes running directly to the Council to spill everything.

Meeting Jess and Eileen’s eyes, Dean nods. It’s their turn to take already bad news and make it worse.

Alicia looks up from where she’s helping Krissy with some spilled coffee and frowns. “I know that look. Jessica Lee Moore, you tell us what’s going on.”

Wincing, Dean slides down the wall to sit on the floor. Full true name. Alicia is _pissed_.

“Dean, you get your ass up here too. You had something to do with this.”

Shit. He doesn’t even try to hide that he’s holding Cas's hand this time, climbing up from the floor and dropping into Gwen’s abandoned chair before pulling Cas into his lap. “I had nothing to do with it actually. This one is completely on Cas.”

“Technically, I’m only responsible for discovering the problem.”

“And being badass enough to keep it from spreading and possibly fixing it altogether.”

Krissy wrinkles her nose across from them. “You two are gross. Stop flirting.”

“Happiness looks good on you, brother, but the girl’s got a point.”

Dean rolls his eyes, waiting for anyone else to chime in.

Thankfully, Eileen decides to start rather than wait for everyone to finish teasing him. “We don’t know how widespread it is, but there’s signs that the Laws have been screwing with our minds, changing how we interpret things, how we interact with folks.”

“Like suddenly hating my dad as soon as I joined a coven?” Krissy asks, her voice small. Alicia wraps an arm around her. “It doesn’t make sense, but…”

Eileen looks at Dean and Sam. “Yeah. That sort of thing. Or holding grudges for far longer than makes any sort of sense, or straight up not trusting each other.” They drone on for a few more minutes as Eileen and Jess lay out the exact problem.

Dean nods when Cas squeezes his knee and taps his wrist. Meeting Sam’s eyes, he jerks his head towards the hallway before quietly excusing them from the table.

“Dean, I can’t just skip out on this…” Sam trails off as soon as he gets a better look at Dean and Cas's faces. “What?”

“If there’s going to be a chance of taking care of the demons, we need to go _now_. Every minute we wait is a minute for Walt and Roy to earn some brownie points with the Council and tell them.”

Sam nods slowly, “Alright, what’s your plan? I can’t leave here.”

“Stay here. Break the Laws’ hold on the folks in there, show them how to do it for others.” Cas's hold on Dean’s hand tightens. “We’ve got the knife and the exorcism spell. Once you’re done here, you can catch up. Hopefully, this won’t…” Cas trails off.

“Sam, it’ll be alright. Help the girls and we’ll send a message when we can.”

Sam looks torn. “Dean…” Sam envelopes him in a hug. “I just got you back, man. You can’t…”

“I’ll be fine, Sam.” Dean squeezes back. “If I’m not, well, take care of my baby.”

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Dean. I don’t need--” Cas trails off. “You mean your car.”

Sam rolls his eyes and waves them towards the door. “Go. We’ll find you when we’re done here.”

Pushing everything aside, Dean nods before dragging Cas towards the door.

 

* * *

 

Cas doesn’t mention the death grip Dean has on his hand, nor the redness to his eyes when they’re in the car.

“Who do you want to start with? The twins or the newbie?” Cas glances over when Dean breaks the silence.

“Not the red-headed woman, uh… Rowena?”

Dean shakes his head. “No. Don’t get me wrong, she’s terrible, but being a shit person and into some sketchy spellwork doesn’t mean she’s a demon. Plus, she’s aged. None of this eternally thirty bullshit that the others have going.”

“I don’t-- I have no information on any of these people,” Cas blows out a breath. “Twins sound like they’re more dangerous.”

“Right.” Dean floors it, peeling out of the parking lot.

They park the car a few houses away from the brick colonial mansion in the center of the block. It’s not exactly what Cas expected when he envisioned a demonic lair, but it’s still intimidating.

Cas wants to say something, but this isn’t the time. Instead, he pulls Dean close, backing him into the side of the car, and kisses him, pouring everything he can’t say into the kiss and their sync.

Dean stiffens for a moment before melting into the kiss, sighing as his mouth falls open. He drowns them both in affection and lust and fear and resolve--

Breaking it off before they can get too heated, Cas hands Dean the knife they took from Meg, then reads over the spell again and grabs another knife. “It may not be able to kill them, but it’s a lot harder to move when your knees don’t work.”

“Fuck, Cas. That’s ruthless.”

“I want to live our lives.” Cas shrugs before stealing another kiss. “I want this over with.”

Dean grins while shoving the knife into the back of his pants. “Let’s kick it in the ass then.”

They don’t bother knocking. Dean kicks in the front door and they’re inside with seconds. Cas expects some sort of alarm system, but there’s nothing, not even the sort of noise associated with someone breaking down the front door. The entire house is still and silent. Even their footsteps have been muted.

It’s eerie, near suffocating.

They move from room to room, clearing them as they go. Cas tries to stay in sight of Dean, but the house is huge, rooms opening into other rooms. It’s easy to get turned around. Most of the floor is empty, just general clutter in the study and living room.

Cas’s ears strain to hear something, anything, that will tell them where the twins are. Nothing. Not even his own harsh breathing.

The door that leads to the kitchen is swinging slightly when they turn back to the main hallway. Grimacing, Cas meets Dean’s eyes. Dean shrugs, gesturing to the dining room and whatever lies beyond it.

It’s the only place they’ve not checked yet. Even though it’s probably a trap and they’re probably going to run into all sorts of trouble--

Cas sighs before nodding. There’s nothing else for it really.

Dean cuts through the dining room and into the room beyond.

For once, their sync is useful for something other than reassurance and emotional check-ins. Cas waits by the hall door until Dean signals that he is in position in the dining room. They storm in at the same time and…

All the suppressed noise from the rest of the house is shrieking at top volume. Cas can’t hear anything over the blaring alarms.

He can only see one man sitting at the breakfast table, dark hair and a slender build, who throws up a hand, and shouts something. Before he can take another step forward, Cas is frozen to the floor. The knife is in his hand, ready to be thrown, but he can’t finish the motion.

The other one -- nearly blonde, taller, slightly stockier -- comes from around the corner, dragging Dean. “Aw, look, Mike! There’s two of them!”

“Yes, I can see that, Luce.” Michael waves his hand, shutting off the alarms. He rakes his gaze across them both, settling on Dean. “That was a pretty pathetic attempt, even for the Winchester failure.”

Lucifer’s eyes flick black as his face splits into a menacing grin. “Yes, but they had the balls to try. Who knows how many they told when they were getting their courage up.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean makes a tiny movement, one of his hands tucked behind him at the waistband of his pants.

“We didn’t tell anyone,” Cas says quickly. “Who’s going to believe a recessive and an outcast?”

The twins look at each other, raising their eyebrows, before focusing entirely on Cas, turning their backs to Dean. Cas starts babbling anything he can think of to keep their attention: being rejected by the coven he always thought he’d join, alone for years until he met some others, then their coven bond keeping him from joining and--

He manages to avert his eyes just in time for Dean to shove the knife into Lucifer’s back.

Burnt orange light fills the room, distracting Michael enough to break the immobilization spell. Dean yanks the knife free from Lucifer, tosses it to Cas.

Michael turns, trying to catch up with what’s happening, but Cas is already in motion. He takes a single step forward and plunges the knife into Michael’s heart. He sags forward, into Cas's arms while the light show plays out, before sliding to the floor.

Sinking to his knees, Cas rolls the body, pulling the knife out. He lets Dean heave him to his feet and lead him to the car, shock and uncertainty setting in.

He snaps back to reality, leaning against the car when Dean nudges him with a damp rag. “Cas, babe. Wipe your hands.”

Taking the cloth, Cas slowly wipes the blood from his hands. “I just killed a person.”

Dean shakes his head. “You killed a demon. Michael should have been dead decades, if not centuries, ago.”

“It was still--” He backs away from the thought before the sentence completes itself. It’s done and there’s no time for him to feel it right now. Later. “We should keep moving.”

Dean looks at him worriedly for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. We still need to deal with Bela. And let Sam know.” Dean does a complicated hand motion, muttering something. A green light shoots off towards town, shedding sparks. “Ready?”

Cas nods. “Does it matter? Even if I wasn’t…”

“We’ve got this.”

Pulling the passenger door shut, he leans back in the seat. He doesn’t say much on the drive, simply does a location spell for Dean to follow to Bela’s location.

The house is on the outskirts of town, near Charlie and Jess, a squat split level. Unlike Michael and Lucifer, who renovated their house to be more modern at some point, the house appears to be a relic of when she first joined the Council, aging but not come back around to vintage like Dean’s has.

(At some point, Cas is going to have to find a decent history book, figure out the key differences between this world and the world he came from. Preferably during a period when he can have a couple quiet freak outs without Dean worrying. Did this world even have World War Two? The moon landing? Did it have Jules Verne or Asimov?)

Sitting in the car, Cas doesn’t like their odds, not if they’re going to go in blazing like they did at the twins’ house. There’s no cover, nothing blocking their car from view, no way to sneak up on the front door. He can’t see past the fence into the backyard, but he doubts there’s much cover there either.

Beside him, Dean doesn’t look very excited about their chances either. Leaning over, he pulls Cas nearer, keeps his arm wrapped around him. Cas closes his eyes, soaks up Dean’s warmth for a quiet moment before they walk into another fight.

The knock on the window startles them both, jolting Cas away from Dean.

Sam leans against the back door, waiting for them to climb out of the car. “I was already tracking you when you sent the message,” he explains. “Figured you could use the help?”

Cas nods, handing Sam the knife he’d been carrying. “You take this.”

Dean checks over the demon killing knife before shoving it in his waistband again. “It should be just Bela in there but,” he shrugs, “who knows.”

“Brute force? That’s your grand plan?”

“Worked last time.”

“It also got us _caught_ last time.” Cas points out drily. “If you have a better solution, Sam, we’d love to hear it.”

“Uh, no. Just thought…”

“Right.” Dean cuts him off. “Spell if we can, knife if we can’t, try not to die.” Dean starts across the street without another word.

Cas sputters before taking off behind him. He doesn’t have time to say anything, shoving his irritation across their bond. He leaves the front of the house to Sam and Dean, and carefully lets himself through the gate to the backyard.

The two women on the patio are as shocked to see Cas as he is to see them.

He doesn’t pause this time, starts reciting the exorcism spell as soon as he sees them, before they have a chance to do more than drop the teacups they’re holding. The brunette, Bela, starts struggling as soon as she realizes what’s happening, body fighting against itself.

Black smoke pours out of her, burrowing through the stone patio, leaving burn marks behind.

Rowena throws a hand towards him and snaps something in Latin. He barely has time to recognize that he’s flying before he’s landed at the foot of the tree behind him. It knocks the breath out of him, leaves him gasping for air as she strides towards him, picking up her teacup as she stands.

Pausing a few feet away, she tilts her head and looks at him before taking a sip of her tea. “Castiel, I’m well aware that Bela is a dreadful bore, but sending her to Hell? Was that necessary?”

Cas manages to twist around to face her. “How do you know my name?”

“You gave it to my wee pet Ruby quite willingly, and she was kind enough to tell me.” Frowning, she looks him up and down. “You’re useless to me now, all claimed. There’s ways of undoing that, but they’re rarely worth the trouble.”

“You would know. You had Meg trying to do it for you.”

For the first time, she looks truly confused. “Meg? What does she…”

“She tried to use me to break up Sam’s coven.” Dean wraps an arm around her and holds a knife at her throat. “If she was in on it, and so were Michael, Lucifer, and Bela here? Well, even odds are that you were too.”

“I was doing no such thing,” Rowena says indignantly. “I could barely stomach working with them on Council matters, let alone anything else.”

“Yes, I can see that.” Cas drawls, looking pointedly towards the tea set on the patio table and the cup in her hand. “A terrible hardship.” Dragging the correct spell to mind, he spits out the binding spell before she has a chance to respond.

Dean almost drops her, skipping backwards to avoid the shards of broken teacup. “You could have warned me.”

“Not without warning her.” Darting forward, he grabs the knife Dean is still holding. “This way we can move her.”

Dean nods, crouching next to her. “You’re sure she’s not one of them?”

“As sure as I can be,” He shrugs. “She didn’t react when I banished Bela.”

“Keep her bound anyway, at least until we figure out what to do with her.”

Cas rolls his eyes before moving the knife to his waistband and taking half of Rowena’s weight. She’s not heavy, but awkward.

Sam’s still checking Bela’s host body over when they drop Rowena into a chair at the table. He frowns for a moment. “Not a demon?”

Cas shakes his head. “Nope.”

Dean carefully grabs and squeezes Cas's hand while they’re out of sight of Rowena and Bela. Cas flashes him a grin before moving next to Sam.

“So we’re at what, four demons on the council, a bunch of minions, and Rowena managing magic none of us have ever heard of?” Dean crosses his arms and nods towards Bela. “Is she still a threat?”

“I’ve already called an ambulance, but I don’t…” Running a hand through his hair, Sam straightens from his crouch. “I have no idea if she’s gonna make it.”

“What _are_ we going to tell the cops?” Cas asks.

They both look at him like he’s insane. “Why would they investigate?” Sam asks, blinking.

“We have multiple dead bodies and are sending a woman to the Emergency Room,” Cas explains, slowly, like maybe that will help.

“In the course of what looks like a territory war. The cops won’t care. They’re mostly for non-magic crimes.”

“So there’s not going to be an investigation at all? _Nothing_?”

Sam shrugs, looks at the two women in front of them, “The regional leadership will do a pro forma report that determines the Council was abusing their power, were at fault, and we were within our rights to eliminate them.” It’s matter of fact, something no more remarkable than the color of the sky or city councils at home being corrupt.

Sighing, he decides to not look a gift horse in the mouth, even though this makes no sense. Or it would make no sense if he didn’t already have plenty of evidence that civil society is terrible here. “That’s so backwards, but okay. We’re not going to say anything about the demons or the rest of it?”

A bright purple light flashes in, hovering in front of Sam until he swipes a hand through it. “Eileen. Said she’d let me know when they’d done their part. You okay out here?”

Cas waves him off, staring at the table top. Dean looks like he wants to say something as Sam passes, but stays quiet. They lapse into silence, watching Bela struggle to breathe.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, the last chapter. Once more, many many thanks to both Dorkily and Foop for reading over this for me, to Mediocre Meta for listening to me talk out problems, and to Weekend Writing Marathon for both hosting writing sprints and, once more, allowing me to figure this thing out in their faces (and for telling me that editing something for 3 months is ridiculous, publish it already.)

By the time, the paramedics get there, Bela’s barely breathing.

He and and Cas are only a little better off: Cas hasn’t moved in a long time -- not even fidgeting -- and Dean’s not really doing much better, the adrenaline crash starting to hit him hard.

Maybe that’s what’s up with Cas too, lack of sleep and fatigue from the last couple of days just slamming into him.

The paramedics look like they’re about ready to load Cas up too before Sam waves them off. Dean wants to reach over, gather him up, and disappear for a few days of peace, but doesn’t dare. Not in front of Rowena.

“Cas, we need to talk to Rowena. Can you…” Dean trails off.

It takes a moment before Cas nods and whispers the partial counterspell, granting her a small amount of motion.

Rowena glares and works her jaw for a moment. “Can I help you?”

Dean rolls his eyes before moving to stand protectively in front of Cas. “We just want to know about the demons.”

She scoffs. “Caught on, have you? This entire town, sharp as river stones.”

“Rowena, just--”

“Tell us before we compel you to do it,” Cas cuts in.

Somehow, she manages to look down her nose at them. “Tch, doubtful you even could. It takes a well trained witch to manage an effective compulsion spell. Not some wee bairn novice such as yourself. And a recessive to boot!”

Cas shrugs, “Doesn’t have to be well-done to be effective. On a guess, you’re responsible for the clusterfuck that’s taken up residence in everyone’s heads.”

“Not yours though.” She tilts her head curiously for a moment. “Where _did_ you come from?”

Dean feels his eyebrows raise, “You were responsible for that?”

“For crossing him over from where ever he was? Of course not,” She scoffs. “That never should have happened. No, _the Laws_. So much easier to avoid questions when no one’s asking them.” She shrugs elegantly. “The demons simply… used that to their advantage.”

“This has been going on for decades! Why didn’t you stop them?”

“Why would I? I didn’t survive three hundred years by angering demons. We could coexist peacefully and enjoy the benefits.”

“It never occurred to you--” he cuts himself off. The time for her to do something was decades ago. If she didn’t care then, why would she care now. He sighs and drops into one of the abandoned chairs. “Cas, any ideas on what to do with her?”

“Several,” Cas bites out. There’s an angry glint in Cas's eye that Dean’s never seen before. “The one I like best though, I’ll need more time and help from the others.”

“Alright. We can get someone to hold onto her.”

Cas nods, leaning against Dean’s chair. It’s a relief to have him near. Rowena tries to chat them up, but falls silent after a couple of attempts, looking vaguely put out.

Sam bustles out after a couple minutes, looking smug. “We need someone to hold her, right?”

“Did you call him already?” Dean looks over from where he’s watching Cas’s fingers tapping against the table.

“How did you--” Sam shakes his head. “He’s on his way. Should be here in about five minutes.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “Is there a reason you’re being all cryptic?”

“Her son,” Sam nods towards Rowena. “They _loathe_ each other.”

Dean ignores Sam’s bitchface, “Can’t really blame him. Not given the stories he’s told.” Sam and Crowley have never gotten along. Instead, he pushes away from the table to go search for a snack of some kind. It’s been a long time since the toast he choked down this morning.

There’s an officious knock at the door before he can get very far in his search. Opening the door, Dean’s nearly knocked over in Crowley’s rush.

“Where is she?”

“Oh, hey Crowley. I’m just fine, bruised up a bit, but nothing that won’t heal.”

Crowley scoffs, “Really, you’re going to hold me to the niceties? Today?”

“Not really.” Dean shrugs, “You sure you’re cool with this? We can find another option.”

“No, Squirrel, I’m very certain I want this.” His smile is hard.

“It’s just for a little while.”

“I’m sure she and I will have a grand time until then.”

Dean lifts an eyebrow before shaking his head. “I don’t want details. C’mon, she’s out back.”

Crowley snaps his fingers as soon as they’re through the house and to the back porch, lifting Rowena into the air, dangling her like an idle marionette. “So much less fuss this way.”

“You’ll keep her secure until we can send her away?” Cas asks, coming around the table.

“Safe as my own mother.”

“Crowley--” Sam starts, clearly intent on lecturing him about something or another. Dean rolls his eyes when Crowley turns around.

“Moose, don’t be obnoxious. If you actually cared, you wouldn’t be handing her over to me. I’ll give her back once you’ve come up with a more permanent solution.”

Dean ‘hmms,’ following Crowley back out to the front. “You know you’re the only heir to the Council.”

“If I’m going to be bored shitless by dealing with Council business, I’m dragging you and yours with me.”

“Not me.” Dean says quietly, trying to ignore the neighbors standing on their front porches, watching.

Crowley lifts an arm to wave theatrically, making a point to gesture at Rowena. “Yes, you. Or do you think I can’t feel the power radiating off you and your bondmate in there? Whatever block they put in place, it’s gone.”

“What?” Dean shakes his head, confused.

He sighs when Dean stares at him. “If you don’t believe me, get one of your do-gooder friends to verify it.”

“Maybe later.”

“I’ll be in touch regarding reforming the Council.” Smirking, Crowley snaps his fingers and disappears, taking Rowena with him.

Waving to the neighbors again, Dean ducks back inside. Cas wraps his arms around him as soon he’s back inside, burying his face in Dean’s chest. “Can we go home?”

“Give me just a couple minutes?” Dean reaches into his pocket, pressing the car keys into Cas's hand. “I’ll be out as soon as I talk to Sam.”

Cas nods, reaching up to kiss Dean softly.

Dean doesn’t linger long -- enough to let Sam know Crowley’s gone and his threat to drag them onto the Council -- before running back out to the car.

 

* * *

 

Cas is on him as soon as they’re through the front door, pressing him against it and kissing him urgently. Dean kisses back for a few minutes before gently pushing him away. “Cas, wait. I’m very onboard with this, but blood? Not really my thing.”

Cas chuckles as he drops on the bench seat next to the door, grinning up at Dean like an idiot. “Sorry, I needed…”

“I get it. We made it through.” Dean pulls him close as he sits down. “But we could both use a shower before the life affirming sex.”

“And a bed.” Cas leans over to kiss Dean again. “Since I don’t think we’ll be getting up for a while.”

Dean grins into the kiss, “C’mon. Race you to the shower!”

The shower ends up being less sexy and more exhausted scrubbing down before falling into bed. Rolling over to face Cas, Dean wraps an arm around his waist and yawns, nuzzling into Cas’s shoulder.

Cas closes his eyes as he yawns too, reaching down for the blankets at the foot of the bed. “Nap first?”

“Nap first.” Dean struggles to sit up enough to help arrange the blankets before wrapping himself around Cas. “Hey, Cas?”

“Mmm?”

“Wanna get a cup of coffee with me later? As a date?”

Sleepily, Cas nods. Dean kisses his forehead before stretching out slightly and closing his eyes.

They can figure out the rest later.

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a prompt fill for one of [WWM's weekly prompts](http://weekendwritingmarathon.tumblr.com/post/161215572202/flash-ficlet-prompt-may-23rd), something else to work on while I was finishing up editing [Blue Moon Rising](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11372664). 2500 words in, I realized this was going to be a much bigger thing than I expected.


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